The Difference Between Medicine and Poison is in the Dose
by Ritual Union
Summary: Three years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Draco Malfoy thinks his life is finally turning around. What with being accepted into the Auror program, he feels as though this just might be his chance to atone for his sins. Little does he realize it will be much harder to let go of a past that's so adamantly threatening to throw his life off balance once again. H/D pairing.
1. Passive Aggressive

**THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEDICINE AND POISON IS IN THE DOSE**

_**Author's Note: **__Warnings: mild violence, language, and slightly non-con towards the end of this chapter. This story has a plot. Contains Male/Male sexual relationships. Also, I'd like to add that my chapters may or may not be updated more than once until I'm satisfied that there won't be any plot-holes in the future of this story. Apologies in advance. Reviews, comments are most welcome. Enjoy!_

_oOo_

_Harry Potter and all related content belong to J.K. Rowling; no copyright infringement intended._

_oOo_

_In the cold light of morning while everyone's still asleep, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy realize that they've just spent the entire night in each other's arms. Nothing has ever felt so _right_. Is there such a thing as too much of a good thing?_

* * *

**Chapter One, Passive Aggressive**

* * *

Draco Malfoy stood at the top floor of his apartment building, overlooking the street below. A lit cigarette was held loosely between his lips. There was a heavy mist hanging low over the garden that invaded the rooftop, over the tulips, the calla lilies, the camellias were nearly invisible in the light fog. He inhaled, the nervousness he'd been feeling all morning slowly ebbing away.

But not quite.

He felt an unpleasant knot forming in his stomach as he thought of the job interview that he was going to attend later that morning. He supposed he shouldn't be that nervous. After all, he's capable of doing anything he put his mind to. But it was the first time since the end of the war that he was actually seeking out employment. He knows the reaction from the magical community wasn't going to be a positive one, seeing as his father was imprisoned in Azkaban for his previous ties to the Dark Lord. They'd assumed Draco was also in league with Him. He shouldn't blame them. Their assumption hadn't been that far off from the truth…

He frowned, tucking away a strand of his light hair that had fallen out of place, and took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. Given that it's been a whole three years since that time, he was giving himself the hope that he was no longer in the public's radar. That they'd forgotten who his parents were and who they had been involved with. He was nervous as hell but he held a small feeling of excitement nonetheless for what would become of his life at the end of the day. Maybe he could finally start over again. Maybe this was his chance to turn his life around.

It hadn't been easy to qualify for the Auror interview. The past year had been dedicated to completing the N.E.W.T.s, which he'd neglected during his last year at Hogwarts. Just a few weeks prior he'd been proud to find out that he received six passing grades, all Outstanding. His mother would've been proud. He felt a miniscule smile spreading across his face.

The crisp morning air chilled his arms, but he made no move to cover them. He looked down at his forearm, traced a finger over the permanent mark that stood so boldly against his light skin. The mark that would never fade.

"You spend way too much time up here, Drake."

Draco glanced over his shoulder. Blaise Zabini walked over, shirtless, and came to stand close behind him. He took the cigarette from Draco's lips, and transferred it over to his own. He blew smoke on Draco's face.

"Just trying to get away for a bit. Leave me alone for a second will you?" Draco said, turning his gaze back to the street below. The mist was starting to clear up. He could just make out the tops of people's heads as they strolled down the London sidewalk.

"What if I don't want to?" He slid an arm around Draco's waist and pulled him closer, Draco's back against Blaise's broad chest. "I'm always waking up alone, wondering where the hell you've run off to this time. It's getting a little tiring, you know?"

Draco remained silent. He'd been sharing the flat with Blaise for the past few years. Way too long, Draco thought. Draco had moved in just after the death of his mother. He felt his heart clench painfully, trying and failing not to dwell on the details of how his mother had left him. She'd been unable to face the magical community after the incarceration of his father. The Ministry had broken his family, taken their home, their possessions, everything except the Malfoy vault which Draco would've gladly given up in exchange for his mother to come back to him. Needless to say, Draco had been going through a very difficult time, wandering aimlessly from Muggle pubs and motels until Blaise Zabini had found him, nursing him slowly back to health.

He pulled away from Blaise a little; the cigarette was dangerously close to the side of his face. Blaise didn't loosen his grip. Instead he pressed himself against Draco, the bulge in Blaise's pants becoming apparent.

"Not now, Blaise. Please." He saw Blaise's dark eyes flash with hurt but it was gone the next second. Blaise pushed him off gently. He took one last drag of the cigarette and twisted it into the soil of one of the potted plants that stood next to the railing. One of the leaves started to smolder.

"Fuck you then," Blaise said, exhaling smoothly. He kissed Draco roughly on the lips before departing through the door at the other end of the roof deck.

Draco sighed and turned to the little ghost flower next to him. He took the crushed cigarette butt, brushing away the ashes from the flower's leaves.

oOo

* * *

Draco had a few hours to spare before he needed to appear at the Ministry, so he allowed himself a quick run through the streets. He breathed easily; he'd started a small work-out regime in order to get fit for his position and ran a little over twenty miles a week. It also provided him with some much needed time away from Blaise, who'd become too attached to him recently.

He reached a busy shopping district and was just about to turn back when he spotted someone sitting outside a coffee shop at the other side of the street. He stopped in his tracks. A small jolt went through him as he realized who it was. A thick, unruly head of dark hair, a pair of emerald eyes that stared down at the table.

What was he doing here?

It was the first time Draco had seen him since the war. He didn't know what to think. The last thing he'd seen Harry Potter doing was defeating the Dark Lord, and hearing the deafening roar of the crowd as the Dark Lord fell. He narrowed his eyes. It couldn't be him.

People around Draco started to make noises of impatience—he was blocking the sidewalk. He pushed past and leaned against the wall of a building, out of the way, and positioned himself so he could stare easily at the raven-haired man.

He remembered suddenly how so many years ago he had met Harry Potter at the robe shop in Diagon Alley. At the time Potter had been the most offensive looking boy Draco had ever encountered. A boy who had been too short for his age, with hair as black as a raven, sitting on the top of his head like a haphazard halo so unlike Draco's hair, which his mother would slick back without a single misplaced strand. Harry had been wearing glasses which were broken and taped together, but the frames couldn't hide the vibrant emerald eyes that lay behind. Curious eyes. So curious about everything. Harry's collarbones had been prominent, and had stuck out of his worn shirt, which hung unattractively around his small body. Potter had been everything that Draco wasn't, but he'd attracted the blond boy's attention all the same.

Looking at the young man now, Draco could see how much Potter had changed since their school years. He was leaner, which was saying something since he'd always been a rather small kid, though the muscles were still apparent through the folds of his clothes, toned from all his years playing Quidditch. His hair was much longer, partly covering his ears. Draco would be lying if he said that the look didn't suit him. Potter reached up to adjust his glasses, frowning at whatever was lying in front of him.

Draco waited for it. Waited for the familiar feeling of anger that would surge through him at the sight of Harry Potter. He'd wanted so badly to destroy him...or embrace him. He never knew which. To make everyone see that Potter wasn't as special as they thought he was. He scowled and turned back towards his apartment. What did he care anyway? That was in the past and there was no reason for them to cross paths again. No need to relive those memories.

oOo

* * *

At the other side of the street, Harry frowned deeper. He tore his eyes away from the Daily Prophet in front of him, the hair at the back of his neck prickling as though he was being watched. He saw no one familiar, however, only Muggles walking from shop to shop, occasionally grazing his table since the sidewalk was so narrow. Normally he would hate the thought of being somewhere so crowded, but no one knew him here, and that was extremely refreshing. He took a sip of his coffee and turned his attention back to the paper in his hands. He thought he'd been free of all the publicity following the events at Hogwarts three years ago. It had eventually died down, but today it seemed to have resurfaced, much to his dismay. The headline read, clear and bold:

**Golden Boy's Guaranteed Position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

Harry folded the paper neatly and set it aside. He supposed he would have to cut his readings of the Daily Prophet short every morning. Headlines would suffice until they forgot about him again. He got up from the table, newspaper tucked under his arm, and walked a few blocks down the street before turning into an empty alley. He double checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, and disapparated.

He flung the paper down on his coffee table, slightly annoyed and more nervous than ever about his interview at the Ministry. If he'd known for sure that his position was guaranteed he wouldn't have been practicing his magic so vigorously the past few months. Of course, that had just been the media trying to hype up the fact that he was still the Golden Boy, able to get anything he wanted if only because of his fame.

He raised a hand to rub his temple. "Always. Always the same damn thing," he muttered as he walked over to the mirror hanging in the sitting room. He unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off and laying it on the arms of the couch.

These were the moments he despised the most. Coming home to a house that was empty and silent. He wondered, always wondered whether he had made the right decision in leaving the Weasley household. In leaving Ginny. It'd been comforting at the beginning. The house was always full of the people he cared for and loved. And for a time, Harry finally felt as though he belonged. That he found what he'd always been looking for.

It was much later after living at the Burrow that the past had begun to catch up to him. Night sweats, cold and dark dreams that reminded him of the people that had been lost to the war. People that were never meant to die if only Harry had defeated Voldemort sooner. They'd come back to haunt him, possibly noticing that Harry had become too comfortable with his life, filling his chest with the guilt and grief that had never truly, and would probably never leave his heart.

Harry had refused to socialize with anyone during those moments, since even his magic had begun to be too much for him to handle. He had to look for outlets, exercising his magic until he was exhausted and satisfied in believing he wouldn't lose control. The constant disconnect from his family, however, had started to affect them. For that reason, Harry decided to move back into Sirius' place, back to Grimmauld Place on his own, to figure out what the hell was going on with him. Harry had assured his family that he'd be alright. But sometimes he wasn't quite sure of it himself.

He turned to make his way to the bedroom and was startled to see a head floating in the flames of the fireplace.

"Fuck, Hermione, could you give me a warning before you just pop up in my sitting room?" Harry snapped, though he was very much pleased to see her. She beamed at him in response.

"Good luck today, Harry!"

"Oh, you saw the Prophet?"

"No. I've known about that for quite some time, actually, you being my best friend and all."

Harry smiled apologetically. "Sorry, it's just that I'd gotten used to _not_ seeing my name all over the front page."

"I understand. It's unfortunate, Harry, but it'll-"

"Blow over. I know." Harry leaned against the side of his armchair. "You wanna come in?"

"Sure." Hermione climbed out of the fireplace and sat herself on the couch. Harry prepared some tea and handed her a mug. "Ron says it was only a matter of time before the Prophet found out. Don't worry yourself too much over it."

"How is he, by the way?" he asked. Hermione had moved into the Burrow with the Weasley's, having been going steady with Ron for the past few years.

"Grumbling on about how Mrs. Weasley isn't letting him have dessert anymore. She says he needs to be strong and healthy if he's going to be an Auror," Hermione told him, a look of fondness coming over her face.

Harry grinned. That definitely seemed like something Ron would do. There was a small silence between them, both lost in thought.

"She misses you, you know," she said.

"What?"

"Ginny. She misses you. We all do," Hermione said, her brown eyes softening.

Harry swallowed and turned away. The guilt that he'd been feeling towards his relationship with Ginny, and the following break-up, came back in a rush. In all honesty he missed her, too. Her holds, her hair, her lips. If only for their familiarity. But he couldn't do it anymore. It was a lie. He'd been lying to himself and to Ginny. The fact that he'd preferred men hadn't been taken well when he'd confessed to her, but he had to do it. The last thing he wanted to do was string her along. She was worth much more than that. Though he treasured her more than anything, he didn't want to lie. The result had been a very devastated Ginny, though thankfully she had understood and remained angry only a week before owling Harry and asking if they could remain friends. More relieved than Harry would think possible, he'd owled her back saying that he would love to remain friends.

Unfortunately for him, the rest of the family remains blissfully unaware of his preferences.

He braced himself for the coming question.

"Won't you come back, Harry?"

"Hermione, you know full well that I can't. I need to be on my own for a while. To figure things out. I've never wanted to depend on anyone; I can't continue to do that." He bit his lip when Hermione looked down to hide her hurt. "I'm sorry, Herms. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

She shook her head. "No, I know. I understand." She placed her empty mug on the coffee table and stood up. Harry walked her to the fireplace, a few steps away.

"Besides," Harry said in an effort to cheer her up. "If Ron and I are going to be partners at the Ministry then you'll probably see me so often again you'll get sick of me." Hermione giggled, and Harry gave her a small smile.

"You're probably right. Although," she said, eyeing his shirtless body admiringly. "If you keep looking like that, Harry, then I might very well enjoy your company again."

Harry felt heat rising to his cheeks and he grabbed his shirt, throwing it at her face. It missed completely and fell into the fire where it began to burn quietly in front of them. He put it out with a wave of his wand.

"Anyway, I just came to send a little luck to you from all of us. Ron is excited to see you again, even though he doesn't say it aloud. Floo us whenever you'd like okay, Harry?"

"Sure thing. And thanks," Harry said. He brought her close for a hug and with a final smile, Hermione vanished from the fireplace, leaving Harry leaning against the side of the couch.

oOo

* * *

Harry took a deep breath and stepped out onto the Ministry of Magic arrival area. He straightened his cloak more securely over his shoulders. Nervousness was building up inside of him. He hadn't a clue what to expect during this interview. He supposed he should've asked someone for advice, but after a gut-wrenching moment he realized he didn't know who to ask. The Aurors that he'd known, Mad-Eye, Tonks…

He made his way over to the elevators relieved, as he looked over to the main plaza, that the statue of tortured Muggles from years ago was no longer its centerpiece. A grand fountain now took its place with a few witches and wizards sitting at its edge.

"Coming in?" asked a voice from the elevator.

Harry turned and his hand instinctively twitched towards his wand. He stopped himself when he realized where he was. He looked into the cool gray eyes of Draco Malfoy, someone he hadn't seen since the war, and someone he hoped never to deal with again.

Malfoy had noticed his hand movement, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly in a trademark smirk. "Don't worry, Potter. I wouldn't dream of doing anything to the savior of the Wizarding World."

Harry fought back a retort and stepped inside, positioning himself at the corner of the elevator behind Draco. The doors closed and it jerked upwards at once. A silence filled the small space as they were jostled to and fro. Harry's mind raced with memories of their past and he fought to be rid of them. They hadn't really parted on good terms, or on any terms for that matter; his family just sort of disappeared after the war. That was, of course, before the Ministry had caught the family and locked Lucius up in Azkaban for his ties to Voldemort. The youngest Malfoy, he'd heard, had been released on account of being too young to know what he'd been doing at the time. His mother had died a few months later, her death ruled a suicide in the Daily Prophet front page. Harry felt a small pang of sympathy, for he clearly remembered how the woman had saved his life on the forest floor the night he defeated Voldemort. How was Harry supposed to react towards the other man?

He decided to stay silent and to wait until Malfoy stepped off towards his destination. Hopefully this wouldn't be a common occurrence in the future.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said a disembodied voice in the elevator. The doors opened and Harry made to step around Malfoy, but Malfoy went first, his charcoal black cloak billowing behind him. Harry scowled and followed a few steps behind. Why in the world did he get off on this floor?

They walked, their steps echoing lightly in the long hallway.

"Should I be worried that you're following me, Potter?" Draco asked, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not following you."

"I think you might've got off on the wrong floor," Draco continued.

"I was just about to tell you the same thing, Malfoy."

They came upon a set of oak double doors and Draco opened them, revealing a large open hall, a few doors scattered across the wall, presumably leading to the other offices in the Department.

Harry recognized with a small jolt, Pius Thicknesse at the other end, speaking with another wizard. He had to remind himself that Thicknesse had been under the Imperius curse when he last fought alongside the Death Eaters. Thicknesse turned to them and walked over.

"Good to see you two could make it. Pius Thicknesse, Head of Magical Law Enforcement," he said in a deep voice. He shook both their hands.

Harry swallowed his dread. Draco was also going for an Auror position? Since when had he been interested in working at the Ministry of Magic? He eyed Draco suspiciously. He was lean and he'd grown taller in the past three years, several inches above Harry's own head. His hair was no longer slicked back. It hung loose, partly obscuring his eyes. His jaw was chiseled, clean-shaven, and it clenched when Draco noticed Harry studying him. Harry looked away quickly.

"Mr. Ronald Weasley and Mr. Dean Thomas should be joining us in two minutes or they will no longer be able to walk through those double doors," Thicknesse continued, reaching a hand up and motioning for the wizard at the other end to join them.

At that moment the double doors opened again, and Ron and Dean hurried over. Harry beamed at them. Ron shot him a questioning look, no doubt wondering what Draco was doing there. Harry exchanged a grin with Dean, whom he was very pleased to see.

They turned their attention back to Thicknesse when he spoke. "Good, now everyone's here. I will leave you all with Gawain Robards, currently in charge of all the Aurors here in the department. Robards, be sure to welcome them _properly_ once you've all been acquainted. I will be having a word with Minister Shaklebolt and won't be back for a while. Until that time, please thoroughly examine each and every one of them, after which I will expect you to have made a decision concerning who will be moving on to the trial period."

Harry heard Ron swallow.

"Mr. Thomas, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Thicknesse nodded to each of them in turn. "Good luck." With that, Pius Thicknesse disappeared through the double doors.

Robards turned to them. A long scar maimed the otherwise strong features on the other man's face. "Intimidating fella, isn't he?" He was well-built, nearly twice Ron's size, with large muscular arms and hands that looked as though they've broken a few or more bones.

He began to circle them slowly, studying. "I want you all to listen very carefully to what I have to say. You will be given a few tests. Pay close attention and you will have nothing to worry about.

"The first thing that you will learn when becoming an Auror is to never trust a soul. Not one. You can't. You never know if the person you've grown up with your whole life, the person you've gone to school with for years, will turn their back on you the very next morning."

They eyed each other for a second, and Robards smirked.

"Although you never know. Maybe they can be of help sometimes." Robards shrugged. "The second thing you will learn," he said, stopping in front of Harry and peering down at him. He took the liberty of parting Harry's hair from his forehead, exposing his old scar.

Harry had the urge to slap the hand away, slightly affronted that Robards had crossed his personal space, but held still. Maybe it was part of the test. The back of his neck prickled.

Robards continued onto Draco, stopped so close to him that their noses were nearly touching. Draco didn't move a muscle. Robards reached down and took a hold of Draco's arm; he pulled the sleeve away, and they could see the Dark Mark that lay there. Draco's nostrils flared but he didn't pull away. Dean stared wide-eyed.

"Funny, I thought it'd fade," Robards muttered quietly to himself. He let go of Draco's hand, which was now clenched.

"The second thing you will learn," Robards repeated. He continued to circle them slowly. He studied Dean. "Is to never, ever, close your eyes."

"Ever?" Ron asked. Robards turned to him.

"Weasley, is it?"

Ron nodded.

"Well, you see, Weasley. You never know who might be lurking behind you."

They all turned to look. Harry was unsettled. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end. He was sure the others felt something amiss, too.

"Or who might be lurking in plain sight." Robards' voice became quieter.

They leaned closer to him.

"There are ways, you see, to conceal and to disguise…that make easy prey." Robards stopped in front of them, about two yards away. His voice was nearly inaudible. "So you…" He took a step back. "…always…" He took another. "…have to be ready."

Harry saw it before the others. Robards' hand flew to grab his wand, and Harry did the same with his. He flung it up swiftly, calling for a defensive spell just as a jet of red light flew towards them. Harry was thrust backwards at the force of the spell, his electric blue shield nearly shattering in the process. The others reacted quickly. They pulled out their wands, just as figures materialized around the room surrounding them. Five in all, wearing dark cloaks and hoods, their wands shooting spells directly into their group.

A jet of red whistled right past his ear and he turned to see who had cast it.

"Harry, your left!" Ron shouted.

Harry twisted his body just in time, shielding himself from a spell cast in his direction. Immediately he sent two stunning spells in a row, successfully hitting one of the cloaked figures, who crumpled to the ground. Shot after shot was sent in his direction and he deflected each one. He managed to hit another attacker after the man had unsuccessfully shot at Harry from behind. There was no place to hide; the room was an open field. He heard Dean groan as his body crashed against the wall. He fell to the ground un-moving. Risking a quick look towards Ron, Harry saw with panic that the redhead had been overpowered by one of the figures and was now on the ground, body-bound by magic. Furious, Harry rushed forward, tackling Ron's aggressor. Harry managed to disarm him. The cloak fell and he was startled to see his own face looking back at him. Harry retreated. The clothes of his attacker quickly transformed to match what Harry was wearing. Harry stared in disbelief.

The other Harry opened his mouth, "Draco!"

Malfoy, who had just managed to disarm his own opponent, turned to the scene: Harry pointing his wand to the person on the ground, who was also Harry.

"Draco, help," the attacker said.

Harry tensed, his voice caught in his throat. Malfoy had pointed his wand directly at his chest. They looked at one another. Harry's emerald eyes, filled with anxiety, and Malfoy's cold silver ones, unreadable.

The attacker took the opportunity to grab his wand from the floor, raising it for a curse. Harry braced himself for a double hit, his mouth opening to call for his shield, but just then a flash of light lit up the entire room. Harry was blind for moment. When his vision cleared, the attacker was laying on the floor, unconscious; his body and face slowly turned back to their original form.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His hair was drenched in sweat, his muscles still tensed after the fight. Malfoy still had his wand raised.

oOo

* * *

A wave of relief stole through Draco. He hadn't been all too sure that he was hitting the right person. The split second that he'd looked into Potter's eyes, those clear emerald eyes…Draco held back a shiver. It was the first time he'd actually looked into Potter's eyes and hadn't seen hate in them. He hoped never to look at them that closely again. It was all that and the fact that Potter would never address him by his first name that he'd chosen to aim his spell at the other wizard. It all worked out, he supposed.

Draco took in the scene around them. The ordeal had lasted not ten minutes. The cloaked men were slowly stirring on the ground. Harry had run over to Ron and Dean, who were dusting themselves off shakily. He wondered whether he should go and help but thought better of it. He remained where he was, his wand still clenched in his hand. He raised it when he saw Robards stand up and straighten his robe.

"Adrian, please take Ronan to the infirmary. Your team is dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Adrian, a tall and slender man with short brown hair, got up, limping slightly and waved his wand at the shape-shifter on the floor, who had yet to wake up from the spell Draco shot at him.

"What the hell was that?" Ron demanded, holding onto his arm, which had turned purple. "You could've killed us!"

"That's enough, Weasley," Robards said.

Ron scowled.

"Looks like they wanted to see how well we fight," Draco said. He walked over to the group. Strength in numbers after all.

"You are correct, Malfoy. And what an impressive ability you have. None of my Aurors have ever been knocked down quite so powerfully."

"Good thing you're looking for new ones then. Out with the old, in with the new."

Robards narrowed his eyes but didn't respond. He waited until all the cloaked Aurors had left the hall before addressing them again.

"Although you have survived your interview, I expect a greater deal of work to be done regarding your fighting abilities. Mr. Thomas, I think we will have to work on your periphery. It will not fare well if you are focusing only on one target. You have to be aware of everything that is happening in your surroundings all at once. It is vital and it means the difference between living and being at the receiving end of an Unforgivable. It is something that can be worked on. I would like to invite you to join us back here tomorrow morning for your trial period."

The trial period, Draco thought as the adrenaline slowly left his body, would last approximately one month and would determine whether they would qualify to move on to actual Auror training, which would take another three years to complete.

Robards continued talking to Thomas, "I suggest you visit the infirmary before heading home. You are free to go," Robards said. Dean thanked him, shook his hand and made his way carefully through the double doors.

"Mr. Weasley, being a part of this organization means that you are not looking after yourself anymore. You have your team, and in the future you'll have other people's lives in your hands as well. You have showed me that you are aware of the fact by calling out to your team member before he could be hit. I will see you tomorrow morning to begin your trial period. Stop by the infirmary so Katherine can have a look at your arm. You are free to go."

Ron left, looking extremely pleased with himself. Draco nearly scoffed. He glanced at Potter, who had a foolish grin on his face as he watched Ron walk out of the room. Seriously, how could he smile with so much freedom? Draco found himself wondering about the last time he'd ever smiled that way. He couldn't remember.

"Mr. Potter, you have an astounding fighting ability. Your magic seems to come almost naturally to you. That being said, you're not using your abilities at your full potential. You hesitate, afraid even of your power, and that kind of thing will get you killed. Trust yourself, Potter. I will see you in the morning."

Draco watched the younger man walk away without a second look in his direction. Draco clenched his teeth. He could at least have shown some sort of gratitude towards him for saving his life. Granted, the fight hadn't been deadly. Draco shook a stray hair away from his face. Still, it would've been nice. The double doors shut with a loud thud. He turned back to Robards.

Robards spoke, "Have you been training with anyone, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco blinked and was quiet for a moment.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't expect Ronan to be up for a few hours after what you threw at him. I was inquiring of your previous training, if any, that you've done."

Draco frowned internally. Why hadn't Robards asked the others the same question?

Out of habit, he reached for his forearm and realized what the other man must have meant. He had taken particular interest in Draco's dark mark earlier during the inspection. "I thought it'd fade…" Robards had said. Did the guy really expect him to talk about the Dark Lord? Perhaps, to explain the various things he learned from the darkest wizard of recent times? He struggled to keep a straight face, though he felt his anger rising.

"I've never had any formal training, besides my schooling, if that's what you mean. I follow my instincts and nothing more."

Robards studied him for a moment longer. "Fair enough. I will see you in the morning. You're dismissed."

* * *

"Where were you today, Drake?"

Draco was at the kitchen table, a plate of food sitting uneaten in front of him. He didn't have much of an appetite. There was too much to think about after his interview. The fact that he'd actually made it, actually passed. The fact that he will now be working with his former enemy, Harry Potter. Former? Would they have to work together in the future? He reached into his pocket for his Camel pack, in need of a smoke, but found the package empty. He cursed.

Blaise, who was sitting opposite him, tapped on the table to grab his attention. "Hey. I'm talking to you."

Draco took his time in answering. After all, he wasn't just some lowly servant to be tapped to attention. "What is it?"

"_Where_...were you today?"

"Around," Draco responded.

"Around," Blaise repeated.

Draco avoided the man's eyes. Did he always have to keep a tab on where he was? Can't Draco have a little privacy in his life?

"Well, where is 'around' exactly?" Blaise asked, his patience thinning. He raised his flask and took a long swig. If he kept at it he would be incomprehensible by the end of the night.

Draco felt an argument coming along. He could just answer the question. Calm the man down. Blaise was a stubborn, controlling bastard who always needed things done his way. It'd been like that ever since their school days. And even more so now that he and Draco were having..._relations_. Draco liked to think that during the worst instances Blaise's temper could even rival that of the Dark Lord. Probably an exaggeration, but it would spike Draco's amusement all the same. Lucky for Draco, he was exactly the same way.

Draco stood up from the table and made his way to the living room in search of a cigarette. He heard Blaise following behind.

Draco checked the cabinet drawers and the top of one of the bookshelves. There! He pulled down a fresh pack and took a cigarette out, lit it, and took a long drag. He let his breath out slowly, feeling his nerves calm. He didn't turn around to face Blaise.

"Why can't you just answer my fucking question, Drake? It's a simple fucking question."

"I'm really not in the mood for your shit tonight, Blaise. So back the fuck off my dick, will you?"

Before he could take in another drag he was thrown forcefully onto the couch, his cig and his pack falling from his hand.

"Blaise, what the fuck—" A hand closed around his throat. Not choking him, but hard enough to hold him in place. "Blaise-" Draco reached for his waistband.

"Oh, no you don't you little bitch," he hissed. Blaise threw his wand out of reach. The hand that wasn't on Draco's throat closed around his hands and held them still. Despite Draco's efforts to pry him off his body, the other man was taller and much stronger. "I'll teach you to talk to me like that."

Draco was having trouble breathing and when his throat was finally released he hadn't enough time to take a breath before Blaise's mouth was over his own, his tongue intruding forcefully in between his lips. He reeked of fire whiskey and he tried in vain to push him off again. Draco's hands were placed over his head and Blaise moved his mouth down to Draco's jaw line. Draco felt an unwelcome twinge below his navel. He was breathing hard, and he closed his eyes as Blaise bit a particularly sensitive spot near his earlobe, eliciting a gasp from Draco's lips. Blaise laughed softly. Fucking bastard.

* * *

A while later Draco slipped back into his trousers and carefully stooped to pick up his pack from the floor. The lit cigarette had burned out, leaving a small scorch mark on the shiny wooden floor. He vanished the mark with a wave of his wand.

Inhaling a newly lit fag, he went to grab a blanket from one of the cupboards in the hallway and threw it over the young man the couch, who lay passed out. He watched him for a moment, not really knowing what he was feeling, preferring to ignore the dull ache somewhere in his chest.

He made his way to the shower and turned it on. After closer inspection, Draco found five fresh bruises on his body. He rubbed at a particularly nasty purple bruise on his hip bone, willing it to disappear. It wasn't the first time Blaise had been violent. At the start, Draco had found his roughness sort of appealing, something familiar. Something that he could handle. But now it had taken over their friendship and Draco found it difficult to remember the last proper conversation they'd had.

He undressed, stepping into the shower, and forced himself under the scalding hot water that was spraying against his skin. He clenched his teeth, rubbing away at the skin on his arms, his chest, his legs, willing for the water to wash away the filth that he could feel eating away at him slowly, slowly.

* * *

_End Chapter One_

* * *

_A/N: Please review, leave a comment! let me know if you'd like to see more. :33 –Ritual Union_

_Passive Aggressive—Placebo_


	2. What Was Stolen From Us

**Author's Note: **_warnings: l__anguage, mild violence._

* * *

**Chapter Two, What Was Stolen from Us**

* * *

Harry emerged from the elevator onto level two the following morning, thankfully Malfoy free, and proceeded down the hall towards the double doors. He found himself hoping that Malfoy hadn't passed the test the day before. Though he hated to admit it, Malfoy had improved greatly in his dueling abilities. He remembered some not-so-innocent skirmishes during their sixth year, one which had left the other boy close to death on the bathroom floor. There had been so much blood and Harry had feared the worst. But the boy had recovered, returned to his normal villainous self.

Needless to say, Malfoy had proved to be more than ready during their fight with the Aurors and wouldn't question it if he saw the man already inside the hall. Sure enough after entering the doors, he spotted the blond-haired man seated alone on a bench at the far end of the room. His long legs were crossed, the folds of his trousers sharply creased, his hands folded neatly on his lap. He spotted Harry when he entered. Malfoy gave a wave of an eyebrow before turning his attention elsewhere.

The room was no longer an open field, but rather a front office of sorts. Large oak desks were scattered around the room, separated into little cubicles, with a witch or wizard seated in each, working on papers that littered every inch of their desks.

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry spotted Ron and Dean seated at a different bench, a distance from Malfoy, signaling him over.

"We were trying to contact you last night, mate," Ron said once Harry reached them. "Mum had a whole feast going in celebration. Even Dean came along."

Harry reached up to run a hand through his hair, not willing to admit that he'd been up all night with a cold sweat. "I was a bit tired actually. I turned in early."

"It's too bad you missed it, Harry. We had a game of Quidditch after dinner. My team won." Dean gave him a winning smile.

"Only because you insisted on having Ginny on your team and she's the best of all of us after Harry!"

"I guess I won't deny that. She is _really_ good," said Dean. He shot Harry an all-knowing look, which Harry did not return. Instead, Harry cleared his throat feeling heat rising on his face.

Thankfully, Ron had caught nothing and continued, "Anyway, you should come over after training."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Oh, no. You're not getting out of this one, mate. I'm not gonna have Hermione yell at me again for coming home without you," Ron said with a scowl.

"Fine. I'll go home with you," Harry responded with a smile. He glanced over his shoulder towards where Malfoy sat and gave a little start when he found the other young man staring right at him.

* * *

Draco allowed himself a small smirk when Potter turned away from him quickly. Since when had Potter becoming so…jumpy? He watched them for a moment longer, the Weasley kid chatting away their ears. He pursed his lips slightly. How a Weasley had ever come to be an Auror-in-training, he didn't know. And that Thomas bloke? He didn't think there was anything special about him. Another Gryffindor out to save the goddamn world.

His eyes landed back on Potter, whose hand was ruffling his already disheveled hair. Noble Gryffindor git. It's like he got off on saving other people's lives or something. He supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise that Potter had chosen this line of work. Even at school he'd been an insufferable sort of hero. The Golden Boy. It drove him mad thinking about it, which is exactly why he'd taken so much effort trying to stifle Potter into submission throughout their whole Hogwarts career.

A nagging thought crossed Draco's mind. Then what exactly was _he _doing here? He glanced down at his forearm, which was conveniently covered in a long sleeve black dress shirt to avoid any unwanted stares. He knew what people thought of him; why did he still want to go through all the trouble, all the stares of mistrust? A whisper floated into his hearing range and he snapped out of his reverie. He didn't look up. Maybe he heard wrong.

"Ex-Death Eater?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yeah, that's him. I'm telling you."

Panic in their voices.

"How'd they let that happen?"

The whispers were coming from the people sitting at the desks and after a glance in their direction, Draco noticed the copy of that morning's Prophet in their hands. They paled when they noticed they'd gotten his attention. Draco got up and made his way over to them. He was satisfied to see one of the young witches shrink into her seat. She clutched the Prophet to her chest.

"Hey, darling, you mind if I take a look?" Draco leaned in close, motioning to the paper. She flushed a deep scarlet but wouldn't budge. "Oh, come on. Just one peek." Draco gave her a dangerous smile that he knew she couldn't resist and saw her hold slacken. In one fluid motion he slipped it away from her fingers and turned to the front page. He froze.

There he was. His father staring back at him. His longer silver hair no longer shiny. His eyes, which once held a familiar sinister glint, were now crazed and gaunt. Is this what had become of his father? Is this what Azkaban had done to him? He could feel the blood draining from his face as he read the headline:

**Son of Death Eater Now a Current Member at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

Draco was spared the effort of reading the article when it was taken away from his hands. Potter was looking at him with, what was that? Pity? Draco felt his blood boil. He didn't have to read the article in order to guess what it was implying. Draco Malfoy, son of an infamous Death Eater, now joining forces with the Ministry, the very people that had brought his father into Azkaban. How suspicious, they must think.

"Malfoy?"

There was no questioning the intention behind whoever wrote the article. He clenched and unclenched his teeth, trying with difficulty to calm the anger that was bubbling inside of him.

"Malfoy," Potter said quietly.

The room had gone silent. They looked at Potter, then at Draco as though he would explode at any moment. It only fueled his rising anger. He nearly laughed. The reality of this seemed all too clear.

The Wizarding World was an unforgiving piece of shit.

* * *

"It'll blow over. Don't let it get under your skin," Harry said.

"No one asked your opinion, Potter," Draco said harshly.

Harry disregarded the comment and gave the copy of the paper back to the girl seated at her desk. She took it timidly. It was unsettling, the way Malfoy's eyes had gone cold. It reminded him of the boy he'd grown use to back at Hogwarts. Filled with spite and malice. He hadn't changed, couldn't have changed in such little time. But he couldn't help but sympathize with the other man. After all, Harry's been in the public's eye for years and it's never been a pleasant experience.

Just then, a paper airplane slipped through the cracks of the doors. Harry recognized it as the inter-office memos that the Ministry used in place of owl post. He took it, as it had stopped in front of his nose.

"What's it say?" Dean asked as he and Ron moved in to join them.

"Follow the Auror corridor…Training in the caverns. Signed: Robards," Harry read.

"The caverns?"

Harry shrugged. "Guess we should head over then."

With a final glance at Malfoy, who turned away with a clench of his jaw, they made their way through the Auror hallway, occasionally passing an office. Most of them were unoccupied. They were silent as they walked, finally coming upon a shabby-looking elevator at the end of the hall.

"They really expect us to go down on this? It looks about ready to collapse," Ron said, unwilling to step inside.

Malfoy, however, was already stepping in. Harry followed lead.

"Why don't you just go back to your mother then, Weasley? This isn't a place for the faint of heart."

"Why don't you shove it, Malfoy," Ron spat at him with a scowl.

"Come on, mate. I'm sure it's safe," Dean gave him a pat on the back and stepped inside.

Upon reaching the bottom, they descended further down a set of twisting, narrow stairs. It was dark; the walls were moist and the air smelled unpleasant, as though there hadn't been a fresh breeze in years. Harry guessed they were miles below London and, for a moment, felt panicked at being trapped so far down. But it passed, and they continued on the stairs. Eventually it led into the training room.

Seated at a long office table were Robards and one of the cloaked attackers from the previous day. A haze hung about the room; a sweet, earthy aroma was emanating from the cauldron located towards the back. Shelves lined the walls, a grand bookcase stood towards their right.

Robards motioned for them to sit. They sat.

"Suffice it to say that yesterday wasn't the best moment for introductions," he told them. "Again, I am Gawain Robards, Head Auror here at the DMLE. To my left here is Arthur Williamson who's going on a decade of service as an Auror. He is the youngest Potions Master at the Ministry and one of our most highly trained healers. He will be leading you through the beginning portion of your trial period.

"But before I leave you all with Williamson, we have a few things to cover regarding the following month. The trial period is necessary in order for us to determine the best candidates to continue on as Aurors-in-training, or A.T.'s for short, and will cover a variety of subjects including: Poison's and Antidotes, Concealment and Disguise, Stealth and Tracking, and finally Combat and Dueling. As you may have noticed, your cohort is fairly small but common since we thoroughly examine every application and take only those with the highest marks. The same applies to the trial period. Each week you will receive marks based upon how well you have done with the material presented to you and at the end only those who have received high marks will move on to actual training.

"Now, to make this month as engaging as possible, it is a requirement for you all to remain at Auror Headquarters. No outside contact, no leaving the premises at any time during the duration of your trial. You have only tonight, to take care of any final business and be back tomorrow prepared and ready to begin. The only thing you will need is your wand, nothing more. Everything else will be provided by the DMLE. Any questions?"

"No, sir," they replied.

"Then without further ado." Robards nodded to Williamson and left the room.

Williamson, the man with a large nose, turned to them.

"Here at Auror Headquarters, we're not training to become fully-fledged healers or Masters in the Art of Potion making. Nevertheless, it is a requirement for Aurors to be trained in the most basic poisons, potions, and antidotes, and to thoroughly understand each and every one of their properties."

Williamson rose from his chair and walked over to the cauldron at the back of the room. "One of the first things that I will be having you all work on is a simple concoction," he said, and motioned for them to come closer. Harry and the others walked over to where he was, looking into the contents of the cauldron. There was a pale green mixture, slowly solidifying as Williamson stirred it with a ladle. "I'm sure you'll recognize this from your N.E.W.T.'s as you were required to make this particular salve."

"The Star-Grass Salve," Harry heard Malfoy say from behind him. Ron scowled.

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy. The Star-Grass Salve is the most common and highly useful of healing salves, healing as deep as a quarter to half an inch of broken skin depending on how well it is made. And it of course can be used on simple cuts and bruises as well. All Aurors who are out on the field are currently required to carry a small amount on their person if possible."

He walked over to the blackboard, which was attached to the rock wall behind. He tapped it with his wand and instruction appeared in quick, scrawled writing.

"There is a cabinet behind me filled with ingredients and tools. You will have as long as is required for you to produce a _successful_ healing salve, which I will be testing towards the end of our session. You may begin."

Malfoy swiftly headed towards the herbs and grass cabinet before the others did, reaching in and taking various ingredients into his arms. Cauldrons had appeared on the table, and Harry took his position in front of one, feeling all nerves as he placed his own ingredients next to him on the table.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon concocting the healing salve, after much direction from Williamson who had told all of them at least twice to begin the process all over again when they made a mistake. Ron was already on his fourth try, ears aflame as the room had gotten much, much warmer. The rest of his cohort wasn't doing much better by the looks of it. Dean's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, the sleeves of his shirt folded up to his elbows as he stirred his cauldron. Malfoy's blond hair was sticking to the sides of his jaw, his cheeks a slight pink from the effort and heat in the room. He made eye contact with Harry for a second. Harry, not realizing that he was staring so intently, blushed when Malfoy continued to stare back.

After a long while, Harry's own cauldron wasn't looking to bad: the salve was beginning to cool and harden, with the pale green hue similar to the one sitting at the back of the room. After closer inspection he found that the consistency seemed to be just about right for what Williamson had shown them. Not too soft, smooth and easily applicable. He scooped a bit of it and filled a small glass container with his salve, smoothing out the top of it. Feeling rather proud of his work, he stepped back and wiped his brow, running a hand through his slightly soaked hair.

The others were also putting their own mix into their containers and Williamson stood up. He took a knife out of his pocket, one with a small amethyst encrusted at the hilt, and unsheathed it. He reached out his right hand and sliced his palm without a second's hesitation.

"The Star-Grass Salve, if made properly, should take effect almost immediately," he told them as blood began to pool on his hand. He motioned Dean to come forward with his salve. He took some on his left hand and spread it over the torn skin. "Repairing damaged skin, small cuts, scrapes, and bruises." They watched as his skin began to stitch itself together. Williamson did that thrice more with the rest of their salves, each one healing his palm within the minute.

"Now," Williamson continued, handing Harry's salve back to him. "There are much more powerful healing salves, temporary ones that can hold more severely torn skin together while you find a proper Healer to tend to the wound. In addition, we have spells that we can use to our advantage during situations where we don't have the time to take out that bottle of Star-Grass. We'll be working on both these things tomorrow when you come back. In preparation, I'd like you all to practice this healing spell. Have it in your arsenal because it will most definitely be of use to you in the future."

Williamson once again sliced the palm of his hand, asking them to listen closely as he muttered a spell to stitch the skin back together. They repeated it. Repeated it until Williamson was satisfied, and dismissed them all for the day.

oOo

* * *

They arrived at the Burrow late in the evening. They'd spent nearly the entire day in the caverns and Harry felt starved and lightheaded. He had the feeling that every single session would be the same. He wasn't sure how to feel about working with Malfoy. He had to accept it, didn't he? Eventually they would become part of a team and, regardless of the past, would most likely be forced to work closely together. For the moment, Harry chose to ignore the fact and smiled as Mrs. Weasley hurried over to him, fussing at his weight loss and pale complexion.

"Where's Hermione and Ginny?" Harry asked. The Burrow was unusually quiet since most of the Weasley children had moved out on their own.

"Probably out on the brooms," answered Ron. "Let's go have a look."

They walked out onto the back and through the cluttered lawn, spotting an occasional gnome, which Ron would snatch with surprising speed, flinging it over the hedge away from the yard. As they approached the hill, they could just make out a figure in the darkening sky.

They spotted Hermione sitting on a small boulder, hunched over a book on her lap.

"Leave it to you to be three years out of Hogwarts and still have your nose stuck in a book," Harry said. Hermione looked up, her smile widening as she saw who it was.

"Harry!" She flung herself to him, squeezing him tightly.

"Good to see you too, sweetheart," Ron said, eyeing Harry in mock jealousy.

"Shut up, Ronald. I see you every day," Hermione said, though she disentangled herself from Harry and gave Ron a kiss on the cheek. "And for your information," Hermione said as she held up a book entitled, "Healing for the Intermediate Healer: Advice for the Beginning Medi Witch and Wizard." "I'm catching up on my studies. Today we had to accompany some of the Healers while they diagnosed the patients, and they even had some of the apprentices do it as well."

"And how did that go for you?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Very well, actually," she said happily. "How was training today? I heard yesterday was a disaster."

"It wasn't that bad-" began Harry.

"It was awful! It was like being in Snape's class, only ten times worse," Ron said. Hermione elbowed him sharply and Ron was about to protest when he caught sight of Harry.

Harry had looked down, feeling a small wave of grief at the thought of their old Potion's professor. Though they knew that Snape had been innocent all along, it was only Harry who knew how far the man had truly gone for the sake of his love. For the sake of Harry's mother.

"Let's get inside, your mum might need help with dinner," Hermione said quickly. She lit her wand and sent sparks flying high above them, signaling for Ginny to come down.

"You guys go ahead, I'll wait for Ginny." They left.

"Come down, please," Harry called to her after a minute of waiting. He squinted into the sky but it had gotten too dark to see Ginny clearly.

"No," he heard her say back to him. Harry fought back a smile. He hadn't heard her voice in a while.

"You'll miss dinner…Where are you?"

"Not hungry."

"Why won't you come down?"

"Because."

Harry took out his wand and lit it, hoping to illuminate Ginny's location. He could just make her out in the distance above. Her vibrant red hair, maroon in the moonlight, flowing down her shoulders. She was steadily rising higher. Slowly. He gave her a smile.

"Because?" he inquired.

"I'm hoping to keep you looking for me. For just while longer…"

"What?" Harry strained to hear. She'd gone too far from him.

"Harry, catch me!" Ginny yelled and she hurled towards him on the broom.

"You're mad!" Harry laughed. But Ginny wasn't pulling up. "Ginny, pull up! Gin—pull up, pull up!" Harry lunged forward and felt all the air leave his lungs as Ginny leapt from her broom and into Harry's general direction. They hit the ground hard.

"Oh Merlin, that was fun!" Ginny beamed down at him.

Harry groaned and motioned towards his lungs, which Ginny was currently resting all her weight on.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby."

Harry gulped in a lung-full of air. "Thanks," he breathed.

They sat up mere inches from one another. Ginny's hair had gotten longer. Harry could smell the strawberries and cinnamon when she flipped her hair over her shoulder. She inched closer and Harry could see the freckles he'd often connect into small constellations in the early hours of the morning when they were still together, before sneaking back into his own room. It would be so easy. So easy to just go back to the life he'd had before. Her light blue eyes lowered themselves to Harry's lips and Harry did the same, watched as she moistened her own with a sweep of her tongue. Harry felt guilty. Guilty because the spark was no longer there. The quickening of his heart was absent. What was wrong with him? He turned away, biting his lip hard in punishment.

Ginny smiled and got up quickly, reaching a hand down to help him off the ground. "Come on, Harry. I'm starving."

oOo

* * *

Draco was breathing hard, his chest heaving as he felt the adrenaline slowly leaving his body. A copy of that morning's Prophet lay crumpled on the floor—the one Potter had taken away from him before he could read it—among other things that he'd flung across his bedroom in frustration. They'd insulted him, his family, shamed his mother, and called her a coward for her death. Draco growled. Of course, those weren't the _exact_ words written in the paper, but they might as well have been printed there. They were certainly present in the countless letters and howlers that had somehow found their way into his apartment. People screeching words and curses that had even surprised him. Suggesting that Draco himself should also have been sent to Azkaban to rot with his Death Eater father. Certainly there were things in his life that he'd done, regretted, felt ashamed for. But, for Merlin's sake, he'd paid for his sins! Hadn't he?

A sting in his hands made him look down. A few small cuts littered his palms, probably from the glass ornaments that he'd taken from his dresser and shattered against the wall. He healed them with a wave of his wand.

He was relieved that Blaise hadn't been home. He was probably working at the shop. He'd taken over Borgin and Burkes from his father after the war. No doubt he'd read the Prophet as well. Draco knew the reaction from him wasn't going to be pleasant. He bent down and once again looked at the picture of his father. He looked so different, a far cry from the man Draco had admired when he was younger. He took out his wand, and lit the image on fire, watching as the pages smoldered and disappeared into ashes. He quickly set the room back to its original order and cursed when he noticed the stains on his shirt and pants, most likely from the potion brewing earlier that day.

It had been challenging, Draco thought as he removed his clothes and carefully spelled them clean, hanging them back in his closet. Challenging and exhausting and he felt it would only get harder as the sessions went by.

And what the hell were those stares Potter had been throwing at him? Intruding. Too curious for his own good, he thought angrily as he slipped into his sweats.

He heard the front door open and he sighed wearily. He went to his bed and sat, reaching for his pack and lighting the cig with his wand. He placed the pack on the bedside table and left his wand resting on his lap.

"Drake!"

"Fucking hell," Draco muttered quietly.

Blaise came into his room, holding that _damn_ Daily Prophet up in front of his nose.

"An Auror, Draco? A fucking Auror. Is that what you've been up to? What the fuck are you thinking? They're the ones who put our fathers in Azkaban you fucking twat!" He threw the paper at him.

Draco exhaled slowly, willing himself to calm down before he stunned the shit out of him. It'd be too messy. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he said coldly.

"The fuck you don't," Blaise said, the anger very clear on his face. Draco could see his muscles tensing ready to lunge at him, but he raised his wand in a heartbeat.

"Just try it, Zabini. Fucking try it and I'll blast your fucking face off."

Blaise was looking murderous, seething as he considered what to do next. He took a step back and walked towards the door. "You'll regret it, Drake. Just you wait."

oOo

* * *

_End Chapter Two_

* * *

_A/N: What do you all think of the story so far? :3 Please leave a comment/review!_

_Through the Desert Alone—Circa Survive_


	3. Sleeping With Ghosts

_**Author's Notes: **__ Language, mild-violence, dark topics_

* * *

**Chapter Three, Sleeping With Ghosts**

* * *

Harry awoke the following morning drenched in sweat, his sheets wrapped tightly around his limbs. His magic was flowing in bright red ringlets around him, uncontrolled, until it settled into a quiet static around his body. He'd been back at Hogwarts in his dream, at the height of their battle with Voldemort. The Weasley's cries still rang in his ears. Fred lay on the ground covered in dirt and blood, but his face was serene. As though he'd fallen asleep.

He untangled himself from his bed and rushed to the bathroom, shaking his head to rid himself of the nausea that threatened his stomach. He washed his face with cold water, shivering as tiny droplets ran down his neck and onto his chest. He chanced a look into the mirror. His dark circles were prominent, the result of not having a decent night's sleep in a long while. He took a quick shower and then slid into his work pants, feeling a little better than when he'd woken up, and made his way downstairs to make some breakfast.

He lit the stove with his wand and was just about to set some tea to heat up when he heard some shuffling across the hall in the sitting room. Harry wasn't all too worried; he'd allowed the wards in the fireplace to key in the Weasley's and Hermione in case they decided to drop by.

"Hey, Herms, in the kitchen," Harry called, thinking it was Hermione coming to visit again. To his surprise, Ron appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, dusting off his cloak before giving Harry a grin.

"Hey, mate."

"Ron! I wasn't expecting you. Tea?" Harry smiled as Ron plopped himself down at the kitchen table.

"Sure."

Harry poured two cups and handed one to Ron before sitting himself down across the table. They had an hour before they had to appear at Headquarters for the start of their session so they conversed casually, sipping at their tea.

"What do you reckon is Malfoy's deal, though?" Ron asked after a few minutes of small talk. "I never would've thought a guy like him would want to be an Auror, you know? I mean, how'd they even let him in knowing he used to be a Death Eater? I thought they only accepted people with clear records."

"I don't know. You think maybe he's changed? The trial did find him not guilty-"

"Changed? That slimy git would never be able to change his ways. They're probably too engrained in his filthy pure blooded veins."

Harry nodded, more to placate Ron than because he was agreeing.

"He's got some ulterior motive," Ron said darkly.

"What do you mean? Like a plan to attack the Ministry from the inside?"

"Well, I don't know. Yeah." Ron shrugged. "You really can't expect a Death Eater to just turn good all of a sudden can you?"

"I suppose not," Harry said, motioning for Ron to hand him his blue collared shirt, which was lying on top of the chair to avoid any stains. Harry slipped into it and then shrugged on his cloak. "But what about Severus? He was a Death Eater. And look how he turned out. He'd always been loyal to Dumbledore."

"Isolated case. I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to want to avenge his father for what they did to him."

"You think?"

They brooded for a moment longer, sipping from their drinks.

"Definitely not looking forward to sleeping together with the git."

"Neither am I," Harry said, thinking that he wouldn't like sleeping with anyone knowing how little control he has over his magic when he first wakes up.

"Hey, mate?" Ron said hesitantly, setting down his now empty cup and tugging on his own shirt. "I…er…wanted to ask you something. It's actually the reason for stopping by." His ears turned bright pink.

Oh no, here we go again, Harry thought with a huff. Ron was probably going to ask Harry to move back in to the Burrow. "Hermione asked you to stop by didn't she?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"What? No," Ron said, momentarily distracted. "She doesn't even know I'm here."

"Really?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah. Well, anyway, I wanted to ask you…but, I suppose it's not really a question but more of a, you know, a s-statement." Ron was shooting glances at him, probably hoping for Harry to guess at what he was trying to say. Harry frowned and made a hand motion to indicate that he wasn't following. Ron pulled at the collar of his shirt. "I, you know, I've been thinking about asking for a long while, erm, but I couldn't figure out a way to, er, you know—"

"No, I don't know. Spit it out, Ron."

Ron picked up his empty cup and sipped it, setting it down again and moving it to the center of the table. He picked it up again and moved it towards his mouth.

"Care for some more tea?" Harry asked, mockingly.

Ron cleared his throat, placing the cup back on the table and moving his hands to his lap. He took a deep breath and held it. Harry leaned closer to him expectantly.

"I'm gonna ask Hermione to marry me," he rushed.

Harry's mouth fell open. Ron? Ron and Hermione? Married? After noticing that Ron was holding his breath once more, waiting for his answer, Harry closed his mouth and swallowed. He felt his heart swelling in his chest and he grinned.

"Oh my fucking god."

Ron's ears, if possible, reddened even more.

"Well, I mean—" Ron didn't get to finish his sentence. Harry had thrown himself at his best friend, embracing him. Ron laughed. "Does that mean you approve, Harry?"

"Approve? Of course I approve you lucky, lucky man. Are you planning on asking her any time soon?" He pulled away from him.

"Yeah, I'm thinking next month once we get out of the trial period. September nineteenth," Ron said, grinning.

"On her birthday? She'll be ecstatic."

"It's what I'm going for. But, Harry…do you think it's too soon?"

"No, of course not. You've been going out for nearly four years. Way longer than when George and Angelina got married. And look, they already have Fred Jr.," Harry pointed out, smiling.

"I know. But do you think Hermione's ready? I mean, I always thought that, you know, once I find a decent job I'll be able to take care of her. I think this is my chance. I've made it haven't I?"

"Ron, I don't think you have much to worry about. You're a powerful wizard. You'll go far, and I know you'll take good care of her. You'll make her happy. You already do." He patted his shoulder. He really couldn't be happier for the pair. And though he didn't voice this aloud, Harry was very much pleased that Ron wanted to have Harry's approval first. Now that he was thinking about it, Harry had never thought about how much time had passed from when they first met. The years went by so quickly that he hadn't noticed that during that time they'd all grown up, matured, ready to begin a family. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if he would ever have a family of his own. The future seemed very bleak in that respect. Too engrossed in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard Ron speak.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, yeah?"

"Reckon we should head to training."

"Oh, yes we should." They got up. "Hey, Ron." Harry turned to face him again. "I'm happy for you." They grinned and embraced once more before heading out to the Ministry.

oOo

* * *

During their session later that day, Williamson had them practicing the healing spell from the previous session. It was fairly easy for Harry even when Robards stepped into the training room to announce that they were only allowed to cast nonverbal spells for the entirety of their training. This was supposed to help in their dueling and combat training, to ensure they had no trouble when faced with a skilled opponent, and to increase their magical stamina, since silent spells required a lot of their energy. Harry wasn't too nervous about this new standard since he'd been practicing the use of non-verbal spells for years. In fact, he looked forward to the challenge of dueling silently. It would give the upper-hand when facing an adversary, a second's advantage that could mean victory in a battle.

After a few tries at the silent healing spell Harry had mastered it and moved on to brew the Antidote to Common Poisons and Antidote to Uncommon Poisons, which Williamson had assigned to them on the board. It became natural, after another day of working with Williamson, to begin their potion all over again if they made even the smallest of mistakes, without being told to do so.

Harry and the others were once again drenched in their perspiration, stirring their cauldrons and concentrating with effort so as to not mess up their potion. It was strange, and perhaps it was a good thing that he was holding so much concentration on his own work, that Harry wasn't bothered with the fact that Draco was working next to him, an arm's length away. He seemed tame, not at all like the hot-headed boy he remembered from Hogwarts. Maybe he'd grown up, too. Williamson stepped out of the training room.

"You seem to have grown an unnatural habit of staring at me, Potter," he heard Draco say, low enough for only Harry to hear.

"I wasn't," Harry said, adding a few herbs to his potion. It sizzled quietly, letting off steam that thankfully covered the heat that was crawling into Harry's face from having been caught. Draco only smirked and turned back to his cauldron.

oOo

* * *

Later that evening after finishing their potions successfully, Williamson showed them where they would be staying for the remainder of the month. It was towards the back of the Auror offices, a small living space with a common room, eating area, and bedrooms located upstairs. Williamson explained that it was also used whenever the Aurors were particularly busy on a case and preferred to stay close to headquarters just in case anything were to happen. He told them not to be surprised if an Auror stopped by. With that, the four young men were left standing rather awkwardly towards the entrance of their new home.

Draco, who wasn't looking forward to spending the month in the company of the three former Gryffindors, left immediately and disappeared into the showers.

"Anybody hungry?" Dean said, cheerfully. He took out his wand and looked through the cabinets, inspecting whatever ingredients were there.

"Feels a lot like being back in the Gryffindor common room doesn't it?" Harry asked, walking to the kitchen counter and taking a seat in one of the high chairs.

"Except for a certain Death Eater in our midst, it would be," Ron said, moving to join him.

Dean made them pasta for dinner. Harry took notice as he ate his last bite that Draco hadn't come down from the showers, hadn't eaten anything that entire day in fact. When they went upstairs, the curtains had been drawn across one of the beds.

Harry crawled into his own sheets after having changed and showered, and drew the curtains around his bed. Worried that he would have a nightmare while in the presence of his cohort, he placed a silencing charm around him and closed his eyes, his mind filled with thoughts of a certain ex-Death Eater.

oOo

* * *

The following day, Wednesday, after a much tiring session with Williamson, Harry and Ron walked past the Auror offices and to their rooms. They paused when someone called out to them from one of the offices.

"Harry!"

To Harry's great surprise he recognized Oliver Wood, clad in deep red robes sitting behind a desk.

"Oliver?"

Oliver had been talking to Ronan, now fully healed from the curse Draco had thrown at him. Oliver dismissed himself from the wizard and came over to Harry and Ron with a smile. He pulled Harry into a hug that nearly brought him off of the ground. Oliver seemed to have grown another foot and a half since Harry last saw him.

"How's my favorite seeker in the whole world?" He let Harry back down, who'd gotten red in the face at the attention. "Ronald Weasley! Haven't seen you or your brother in years," he shook Ron's hand. "Heard you took my spot after I left Hogwarts."

"Yeah, sort of," Ron said, laughing.

"What are you doing here, Oliver? You're an Auror now? What happened with Puddlemere United?" Harry asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Retired. Just after the war. I had a sort of epiphany fighting those Death Eaters and thought a change in career was required. I couldn't keep playing with a good conscience while there are people out there who need protection."

Harry nodded. "Never in a million years would I have thought you would leave your beloved Quidditch. That's awesome, though. I'm glad we're going to be working together. Just don't expect me to call you 'sir' or anything." Oliver laughed.

"Only around the Minister, Harry." Oliver ruffled Harry's hair good-naturedly.

Draco Malfoy walked passed them, brushing Harry's arm but he didn't turn to greet them. Oliver shook his head. "I'm still wondering why the hell Robards allowed a former Death Eater into our ranks."

"That's exactly what we've been thinking," Ron said.

"Has he been giving you trouble?"

"Not really, surprisingly," Harry replied.

"Keep an eye on him. Well, anyway, I've got to get back to work. Been getting some more reports of Muggle attacks as of late."

"Really? Is that something new? Has it started up again like last time?" Ron asked.

Oliver shook his head. "Sadly, it's one of our more common occurrences throughout the year."

"Can we help with anything?" asked Harry.

"Nothing you can do at the moment. Just focus on getting through your trial period. I expect a great deal out of both of you. We're in desperate need of highly qualified Aurors."

After a few more minutes of exchange, Harry and Ron found out that Lee Jordan and Susan Bones were recently inducted Aurors and were currently on the field investigating the Muggle attacks. They were rejoined by Dean, and they headed to their place after leaving Oliver back at his office.

oOo

* * *

By the fifth day, Friday, Draco was very much hoping for the start of the weekend and with it, an evening away from the Department. He was starting to get sick of the confined walls of the training room. He grimaced at the thought of having to spend any more time down there. He had a suspicion that the fumes were a mental health hazard. That's the only thing that could explain why he would catch Harry staring at him so intently. The fumes were getting to his little raven-haired head.

He arrived down at the training room a little earlier than usual and found Harry Potter already there, gathering ingredients from the cupboard. Harry wore a light gray button-up, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. Draco could see the smooth skin on his forearms as they flexed, trying to hold about ten different ingredients in the crook of his arm. Harry still hadn't noticed Draco enter; his back faced the entrance of the room. Draco made his way over to him, silently, thinking he'd enjoy seeing a startled Potter drop all of his ingredients to the floor. He was about two feet away when Harry flipped around, ingredients and all, his right hand raised and wand pointed directly into Draco's face.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his emerald eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Damn. In a split second's decision, Draco leaned closer to Harry slowly, and watched with satisfaction as Harry's eyes grew wide. Draco reached out a hand behind Harry, their faces now only inches away from one another, and grabbed a bezoar stone from the cupboard. He backed away.

"You forgot this," Draco said, placing the stone atop the many jars Harry was still holding in his arm. Without waiting for Harry's response, Draco sidestepped away from him and began to gather his own ingredients for the Veritaserum that they were going to be brewing that day. Draco would've smiled at that moment for successfully throwing Harry off guard, but instead he furrowed his brows, reaching a hand up to his chest where he could swear his heart was acting strangely, beating a little too quickly. Whatever. The fumes were probably getting to him too.

* * *

Harry willed his legs to move. He went over to his usual spot in front of his cauldron, placing the ingredients carefully on the table. He managed to catch one of the jars that slipped from his hand, as it had been shaking a little from what had just happened. What the hell just happened? Harry cleared his throat and refolded one of his sleeves which was threatening to unravel. He was glad Draco was turned away from him, facing the cupboard, or he would be able to see the heat that was creeping up into Harry's face.

He _had_ heard someone come into the room, but Harry had been too preoccupied trying not to spill his ingredients to check and see who'd walked in. After the person failed to say anything Harry had grown suspicious. He had braced his arm around the jars and flipped around, only to come face to face with Draco Malfoy. He had seen the small look of surprise on the other man's face, but it was gone the next second. Draco began to move closer and Harry couldn't look away from those slate grey eyes which had been looking at him so strangely, so intently, before stepping away and placing a fuckin bezoar stone on top of his ingredients.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

"What? Yeah, fine." Harry moved on to prepare his cauldron.

Draco had moved to his own place at the table, far away from Harry and instead of seeing the infuriating smirk the blond man always carried, Draco's eyebrows were slightly furrowed as if deep in thought. Eventually, Dean arrived and so did Williamson.

The rest of their training that day went by gratefully fast with them learning how to properly concoct Veritaserum as well as its antidote which they finished by early evening.

It was only later, once Harry was lying in bed for the night, that he realized that they hadn't needed a bezoar stone for their potions at all.

oOo

* * *

Draco was weighing his options. They were allowed one free evening a week away from the Department, but he wasn't sure whether he should risk going home. Blaise was bringing home some of their old "friends." Draco didn't consider them as such; never did in fact, even though they had known each other and had been in each other's company throughout their time at Hogwarts. They were united, not in friendship, but in the sense that they all upheld the same ideals of blood purity. Not to mention that nearly all of them: Draco, Blaise, Theodore Nott, Adrian Pucey, Terence Higgs, and Flora and Hestia Carrow, all of them had their father's in Azkaban. He wondered whether Pansy would be there. She'd visit on occasion; the only person Draco really trusted amongst his group of acquaintances.

She was also the only person besides his late godfather, Severus Snape, to whom Draco had confided in during their sixth year. Draco's darkest year. He often wondered what would have become of them if they had continued to date after their fifth year. She'd confronted him after catching Draco in a compromising position with a male Ravenclaw in one of the school's storage rooms. Draco let out a breath of amusement at the memory. To his surprise, Pansy had been rather mature about the whole thing, saying that she'd had her suspicions of his preference for a while. They continued to go out until right before the Final Battle only to keep Draco's secret hidden. He was forever grateful to her for that.

He was hurrying home now, not wanting to leave her with the other wizards alone for too long. She usually showed up only to talk to Draco and to see how he was doing. It warmed his heart, though he knew she got in trouble for it with her Spanish husband. A pure-blooded, important and very prominent member of the Spanish Ministry of Magic, as Pansy would often boast.

When he entered his apartment he could hear a commotion coming from the sitting room, cold laughter that echoed through the apartment. He could smell the wormwood, the spicy and slightly pine sent of absinthe that he knew they favored just before an "innocent" night out on the town. Draco cursed silently.

"And here we welcome the one and only, Draco Malfoy, Death-Eater turned traitor, turned _Auror_," Adrian Pucey said in a slurred voice. He wore a sleeveless black shirt, the Dark Mark prominent on his forearm. He held a glass of clear green, almost colorless liquid in his hand.

Draco greeted each of the wizards with the customary grab of forearms, being careful to place his hand just over the mouth of the skull, partly covering the snake that protruded from it. He kept his face free of emotion, calm and detached, a technique he'd learned from Severus once the Dark Lord had recruited him in year six. After greeting Blaise the same way, he turned to the witches, nodding to the Carrow sisters and to Pansy who threw him a wink.

"Darling, come sit next to me I haven't seen you in ages!" Pansy said in the posh voice she'd adopted soon after their fifth year. She reached out a manicured hand and took his wrist, pulling him to sit next to her on the couch. She smelled floral, rich, and she beamed at him when he told her she looked beautiful in her silk robes.

"So tell us, Draco," Blaise interrupted, loudly. "What's it like working with all those good-for-nothing assholes who put your father in Azkaban? What's it like living with the blood-traitor and that piece of shit Harry Potter?"

Draco, who'd been facing Pansy, raised his head.

"What do you think it's like? You think I'm doing this for fun?"

"So it's true then," Nott said, his mouth twisting upwards in an evil grin. "What Blaise said to us earlier? You're going to get back at them aren't you?"

Draco glanced at Blaise again whose face was just as unreadable, though his eyes had narrowed, challenging for Draco to deny it.

"I think it's alright then," Nott said without waiting for an answer. He looked at Draco appreciatively and drank from his own glass. "Better to keep your enemies close. That's what it is, isn't it, Draco? You're bidding your time before you avenge your father and all of our families."

"Of course that's what he's doing. Such a sexy dangerous man you've become, dear," purred Pansy. She pecked him on the cheek, and Draco fought back a smile, knowing this was the exact tone of voice she would use to annoy him; the voice she would use whenever one of his lovers would pass by them back in their school days.

"Do that again, Parkinson, and I'll curse you," Blaise threatened. Pansy tensed, the smile on her face only lowering for a fraction of a second. She obeyed after a purse of her lips. Draco sat back on the couch, crossing his legs and raising an arm up to drape across the top of the couch, above Pansy. It would probably be a long night. Pansy leaned back also, scooting closer to Draco's side, ignoring the stares of loathing Blaise was throwing her way.

Thankfully the topic of conversation moved elsewhere: to the Dark Lord, to their fathers, to the Muggles which they'd chased out of their homes in this building, laughing as they recalled the instant an old Muggle woman had raised a small wooden cross at them as a shield. They'd since raised wards around the building, making it unplottable, and guarded it against any wandering Muggle on the street.

Draco stood up after a while, offering his arm to Pansy, who slipped her hand through it immediately.

"Well, I best be off for the night, ladies," she said, bending down to kiss the Carrow sisters on the cheek. She offered a bow of her head to the wizards, a rather stiff one when she got to Blaise, and Draco lead her away.

They stepped out of the building, the night chilly as it was coming closer to fall season. They were silent, passing Muggles on the way to a nearby park. Pansy shivered and Draco put an arm around her, bringing her close for warmth. They followed the pathway that lead inside the park, walking just a little longer until they reached a deserted area with a bench overlooking a small lake. They sat.

"How's he treating you, sweetie?" Pansy asked after a moment of looking out into the water. She had dropped her posh accent and was looking at him with worry clear in her dark eyes. Draco didn't want to answer but knew he would be pestered until he gave in.

"As well as ever."

"Like a jerk, in other words?" Pansy glared at him, though it was meant for Blaise.

"I can take care of myself, Pansy. You shouldn't worry."

"Well, I don't like it. I don't like it at all. Draco, why don't you move in with me? I'll take care of you."

"With you and your husband you mean? Do you really think he would allow such a thing? You know, I'm actually surprised he let you come visit. He rarely lets you go out of the country without him."

"I told him I was visiting Mother," Pansy said with a shrug.

Draco glanced at her. "I'm fine Pansy. Nothing for you to worry yourself over," Draco repeated. Pansy opened her mouth to protest but stopped when she caught the look on Draco's face, asking for her to drop the subject.

"Draco…" Pansy hesitated. "Being an Auror…Why are you doing it?"

The question was out of honest curiosity. No judgment in her voice. No assumptions.

"I…don't really know," Draco answered truthfully.

Pansy nodded, a look of understanding coming over her face. "That's okay."

They stared out onto the lake, the night only getting darker. Finally, Pansy stood up.

"I'll see you soon, darling?" Pansy asked.

"Of course," Draco responded, though he knew visits from Pansy were few and far between. He stood up and Pansy reached up on her toes, placing a chaste kiss on his lips, and disapparated.

oOo

* * *

When Draco arrived back at the apartment, everyone was gone. He didn't wait for Blaise to get back. Instead he stepped out again into the cold air, following the trail that the group had left behind. Adolescent things, childish things like destruction of property. Occasionally though, he would find an unlucky Muggle lying on the dark street with wounds too strange to have been made normally.  
"Obliviate," Draco muttered to the old man who'd been frozen in a body-bind moments ago. "Go home." The old man left, a look of confusion on his aged face. Draco straightened, looking around for any more signs of magic. He narrowed his eyes, feeling as though someone were watching him. He slipped his wand inconspicuously into his sleeve, though still in easy reach of his hand.

"I don't think they'd appreciate you undoing their work," Blaise said, coming from around a corner.

"I don't think any of this qualifies as _work_," Draco said smoothly. "What are you guys? Twelve? I hardly think you put any effort behind any of those hexes."

Blaise's eyes hardened but he didn't respond. He turned away and began walking. "Let's go home, Drake. We need to talk."

Feeling very much as though they wouldn't be doing much talking, Draco followed him home.

oOo

* * *

Draco arrived back at the "Auror common room" (as Draco had heard Potter refer to it before) at dawn. He slowly walked up the stairs and into one of the shower stalls, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping much at all that day. He clenched his teeth as the hot water ran through the fresh scratches that had been made to his back. He finished and stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He healed his bruises, the scratches that he could see by looking over his shoulder, and the angry red spots that surrounded his neck and torso.

* * *

Harry woke up at dawn, feeling his magic whirring quietly. Thankfully he'd woken up just before Sirius could fall through the veil, but he still felt a little clammy from reliving his godfather's final moments. He climbed out of bed, reining in his magic and went to relieve himself. He was still half-asleep as he opened the door to the restroom, and froze at the sight that met his eyes.

Draco Malfoy was standing by one of the sinks, half-naked, a towel hanging loosely around his hips. There were small water droplets clinging to the light skin of his arms and chest, and Harry couldn't help moving his eyes lower, to his finely-toned abdomen. But then Harry paused, frowning at all the harsh bruises and red marks that littered Draco's body. He felt heat rising to his face as he realized how the marks could've gotten there. They were slowly disappearing with a wave of Draco's wand, leaving behind healed and pale skin.

Their eyes met.

* * *

Draco's eyes widened when he looked towards the entrance of the restroom and saw Harry Potter standing at the doorway, hand clenched on the handle, staring at him with a look Draco didn't want to interpret. How long had he been standing there? How long was he going to keep standing there? The seconds extended as he waited for Potter to make a move. Draco himself couldn't quite get his body to work either, managing only a twitch of his wand hand.

Finally, thankfully, Draco found his voice and said, "Can I help you with anything, Potter?"

Potter seemed to pull out of whatever trance he'd been in, and ran a hand through his hair. An annoying habit of his, as if it would do anything to tame the wild locks of black hair on top of his head. He cleared his throat, reaching a hand up to his eye in a strange movement, as if to fix his glasses, and said, "Had a good night, then?"

* * *

Oh, Merlin, did he really just ask that aloud? Harry mentally cursed himself, curious against his will as to how Draco would answer him. Probably with a hex, as his wand was conveniently in his hand. For a second Harry actually believed he was going to be hexed, but Draco only raised an eyebrow, a tinge of pink slowly coloring his cheeks. Harry watched, fascinated.

* * *

Did he…Did Potter actually just…? For the first time in Draco's life, for the first time in front of Harry fucking Potter, Draco felt heat rising to his face.

oOo

* * *

_End Chapter Three_

* * *

_A/N: So, what did you all think? :33 Please review/comment! Also, if you have any constructive criticism that would be much appreciated._

_Thank you Collette Nicole, Rin, and Lesseeafreakout for your reviews on the previous chapters; they made me happier than I care to admit. Keep on reviewing so I can stay motivated! xD_

_Sleeping With Ghost—Placebo_


	4. Strange Infatuation

_**Author's Notes: **__language, mild violence_

_A few of you expressed that you wanted the chapter to start right where it left off, but you'll have to forgive me for moving on from that scene. But don't worry, there will be plenty more Harry/Draco interaction in the near future! :3 Please don't hesitate to add some more suggestions for what you want to see happen, I will definitely consider each one of them and see if it will fit to the story and the style it is written in. Without further ado!_

* * *

**Chapter Four, Strange Infatuation**

* * *

On Sunday, the Aurors-in-Trial-Period began their crash course in Concealment and Disguise. Heading off their session for this week was Ronan, the shape-shifter they'd dueled with the first day at Headquarters. They were in a different Auror training room, one whose walls transformed into mirrors the second they walked in. With a wave of Ronan's wand, more mirrors appeared around the room fitting themselves between and around the group, creating a maze of mirrors. Harry found himself alone, but surrounded by five of his reflection. He slipped his wand into his hand.

"During missions out on the field," Ronan's voice rebounded through all the mirrors. "You have to assume that everyone in your presence is an enemy. The Dark Side has eyes and ears everywhere so you have to make sure not to lose yourself, your position, for it could very well mean your life and the lives of your team members. Concealment is a very important ability that all of our Aurors need to be skilled in especially when you will be dealing with the Dark Side.

"One spell that you will need to master by the end of the day is the Disillusionment Charm. This charm is a spell that is used to conceal yourself, or any target of your choosing."

The mirrors disappeared for a second revealing Ronan as he lifted his wand, twirling it around himself with a few muttered words. Slowly Ronan began to disappear also, turning invisible. Only, Harry could make out the edge of a shoulder if he looked hard enough. Ronan wasn't invisible, he'd only faded into the background. A chameleon taking shape of its surroundings.

"Remember, non-verbal spell casting only. You may begin."

The mirrors reappeared and Harry was once again staring at himself. He raised his wand, twirled it and repeated the charm in his mind. Nothing happened. Another try and he felt something cool on the top of his head, slowly trickling down his face. The top of him began to disappear but then it stopped, and he reappeared once again.

They did that for what seemed like hours, Ronan occasionally appearing behind them all to fix their wand movement. By lunch time, Harry had disillusioned half his body, including part of his thighs. Harry was growing tired, hungry, and frustrated that such a simple spell could be so hard, but confident that he'd have it down by the end of the evening.

By the end of the evening he had in fact mastered it. He stared into the mirror, seeing nothing but endless glass and he smirked, satisfied.

"In a second," Ronan's voice said. "The mirrors will disappear and you will find yourself in an open room. Your task before you go home is to find your teammates, try to figure out their location and charm them back into their bodies. The last one standing will receive top marks for the day."

The mirrors disappeared, leaving behind a large open space and Harry felt his body arrange itself to the texture of the background. It seemed he was alone, but Harry knew the others must have successfully disillusioned themselves as well. His eyes narrowed, straining again to see the edge of a body, the outline of a face. He moved slowly around the room, keeping himself to the wall. How in the world was this going to work? If any of them cast a spell then that would mean their location would be revealed as well.

There! The tiniest movement against the wall on the opposite side. Harry raised his wand, feeling his heart run faster in excitement. He'd have to be quick. Calling the charm into his mind, he sent a jet of white light towards his target. Immediately, and without seeing whether he had hit his target, he threw himself to the ground, watching out of the corner of his eye as two sets of white light flew inches above his own head. He didn't hesitate to send another back in the direction of where the spells had come from. Harry had set a battle in motion. He crawled quickly to another side of the room, standing up, but knowing that if he kept still for one second a stray spell would catch him. The moving figures were easier to spot. Though nearly invisible, the fact that they were all running around the room throwing spells was a clear indicator of each of their locations. It didn't make their task any easier. Thrice Harry had only time to cast his shield charm before he flung himself away from his position, sending his own spell towards a corner of the room. It hit.

Dean began to appear.

"Dammit! Who the fuck was that!" Dean yelled, as he slumped against the wall, exhausted.

Harry allowed himself a small laugh of victory before turning his attention back to the room. It was momentarily free of flying spells and shields, a welcome break from the five minutes of running around the room for his life. Harry breathed quietly, trying to regain some of his strength.

* * *

Draco turned away from Dean Thomas as the man slowly materialized in the corner of the room. He heard a quiet laugh towards his right side, near the center of the east wall. Draco inched closer, knowing it was Potter who had let out a laugh. Big mistake, Draco thought mischievously. Now that he was close, Draco could make out the outline of the young man. He came up from behind, leaning close to where he thought Potter's ear would be.

"You're dead, Potter." Draco grinned before casting his charm. He watched as Harry materialized in front of him, a look of shock and injustice coming across his features. But Draco only had a fraction of a second longer to look at his face before he quickly cast his shield. Ronald Weasley was left, and throwing spell after spell in his direction. Draco moved closer to where he knew Weasley was located, knowing it would be harder to cast his shield the closer in proximity they became. Soon they were only three yards away. He sent a jet of white in Weasley's direction, watching as the same charm hurled towards him.

A cold feeling came trickling down Draco's body, and he reappeared, breathing hard and watching with bitter sweet satisfaction as Weasley also materialized back into his body.

oOo

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Dean were sitting in the Auror common room that same night, lounging in the seats and practicing the Disillusionment charm on each other as they were asked to do by Ronan. It was simple enough, having already mastered the charm on themselves.

"Can't wait to tell Hermione about today," Ron was saying, his figure disguised as the couch and wall behind him. He materialized again. "In fact, I think I'll go send her an owl right now."

Harry grinned proudly as his best friend walked back out to the Auror offices. The joy Ron was feeling for having received top marks (never mind that Draco had also received them) was contagious and he and Dean chatted about what the following few days would bring them. Soon after, Dean said he would be heading to bed and Harry was left alone in the common room, his mind wandering over to the voice that had whispered in his ear during their session. How could he have been so stupid to laugh out loud? It had given his spot away and the chill that had gone down his spine at Draco's voice had momentarily disarmed him. He told himself it was from the proximity of his enemy that had given him the shivers, not the sound of Draco's voice sounding so tantalizing, reverberating through his veins for seconds after he felt his body reappear again.

Just then the object of his thoughts walked in, glancing in his direction only once before grabbing a mug from the kitchen table and making himself some coffee. The action seemed so normal to Harry, so strange and out of Draco's character (Harry had always pictured house-elves doing all the bidding for the blond) that Harry let out a laugh before he could stop himself. The sound, however, came out more as a scoff and Draco turned to him in question.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing. Sorry," Harry muttered, reaching a hand up to his hair.

"No, no. That was definitely a sound of amusement coming from your mouth. It's the same carelessly idiotic sound you made earlier, giving away your location to me." Draco took a deliberate sip of his coffee and Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell me what in the world is so amusing to you today? I'd like to know."

Harry, not knowing how to answer, stood up and went over to him. He grabbed a mug and poured himself some of the coffee that Draco had made. He took a sip.

"Not too bad, Malfoy."

* * *

Draco raised an eyebrow at the nerve of Potter. How dare he just offer himself a cup of Draco's coffee without asking? Draco's not the type to share anything of his. He glared at the slightly shorter man.

"What were you expecting?" he asked.

"I thought it would taste like shit," Harry answered truthfully.

"Well then, I'm so honored that my coffee has been given the approval from our great Savior."

"Yes, quite," Harry said taking another sip, amusement clear in his emerald eyes. He looked down when Draco continued to stare.

Draco furrowed his brows, confused at the almost _friendly_ banter he and Harry were currently having. Strangely, Draco wanted it to keep going.

"Better than mine, anyway," Harry continued.

"Is it? Well, I'm sure anything of mine is and always will be better than yours, Potter," Draco said haughtily, walking over to the lounge chair and sitting himself on it, coffee in hand. He crossed his legs, one knee over the other, reached into his pocket, and wandlessly lit himself a cigarette.

* * *

Harry couldn't help but think how amusingly proper Draco appeared even when he was dressed so casually in his sweats and long sleeved shirt. It was the same cavalier behavior he would show back during their school days, yet it seemed so completely different, as though he were merely exaggerating his movements for Harry's entertainment. Harry was just about to go join the blond against his better judgment and ask when in the world he started smoking, when the door to the common room opened and Oliver Wood entered with a smile aimed in Harry's direction.

"Harry, wanna go for a quick fly around the pitch?"

"What pitch?"

"The one on level twelve. I'll show you, come on."

* * *

Draco scowled behind his mug as he watched Wood inviting Potter to the Department Gym for a game of Quidditch, which Potter readily agreed to. Draco turned away pointedly when Harry gave him a look. Was he asking for permission or what? He exhaled some smoke, and watched as the two left the room. Just as well. It wasn't as though he'd been looking forward to a chat with Potter or anything.

oOo

* * *

The following day found the four young men practicing some very delicate transfiguration spells on their own features. They were back in the mirrored room again. Harry was standing next to a very moody Ron, who kept grumbling that it was only easy for Ronan since he was already a metamorphmagus. Ron's usually flaming-red hair was now a disgusting shade of murky green. Harry himself had only really managed to transfigure his forehead to be without his scar, but was pleased when Ronan commented on the shade of his eyes (which were now blue) as it was supposed to be rather difficult to do because of the sensitivity of the area. Ron had scowled at him.

By the end of the week, on Saturday, they were required to attend their session in complete disguise and so Harry transformed himself into a slightly older man. He added laugh lines to his eyes and around his mouth, turned his hair a light brown in imitation of his old friend, Remus Lupin, and transfigured his glasses in such a way that they were lighter, and more rectangular in shape.

Ron grew out his hair and made it jet-black, though he hadn't been able to do anything about his auburn facial hair, so he shaved it off before heading to the mirrored room. Dean was a few shades darker in skin color, with an impressive beard and graying hair. Draco had nearly given Harry a heart-attack when he came downstairs into the common room because, for a second, he believed he was looking at Severus Snape. After he'd recovered from having a lump of toast stuck in his throat at the sight, Harry realized that the man was much too thin to be Severus, his hair a silkier shade of onyx.

"Smooth, Potter," Draco said, and Harry heard the amusement in his voice before the Severus-look-alike glided past him in a scarily accurate impression of their old Potion's Professor.

"Not very original of you, is it?" Harry said, hurrying and sliding in step with Malfoy as they made their way to their session.

"I don't know what you mean."

"If your nose were a little larger I'd be running off to grab my potion's book before I get any points docked from Gryffindor."

"That's just like you to be running away at the first sign of danger," sneered Draco.

"Not at all. I just meant that Severus would always dock points for no fucking reason," Harry said, though his tone carried no malice or anger. Draco seemed to have noticed, for he looked at him thoughtfully with his new obsidian eyes.

"Severus?" Draco inquired at how Harry had referred to him.

Harry shrugged, masking the small pang of grief that had entered his chest. "He was a very complex man. Just wish I would've known it sooner."

* * *

Harry Potter was a very confusing bloke, Draco concluded as they entered the mirrored room to begin their session. Of all the things Draco imagined Potter being like when they started their Auror Trial Period, a _friendly_ Potter was the last thing on his list. Self-important, annoying, proud, a _Gryffindor_ in other words, were the things he was expecting. But this guy beside him, currently adjusting his new glasses (which Draco found rather fascinating), was nothing like the Potter he remembered from school. Surely by now they should have bitten each other's heads off? Because how else would someone describe their teasing comments towards each other? And their walking together down a hall with a sole purpose of reaching their destination and not hexing each other into oblivion? Because, by now, _surely_ their peaceful truce should have ended?

He needed a smoke.

* * *

They entered the room, Harry absentmindedly setting himself up next to Draco where he would normally have stood next to Dean or Ron. Realizing his actions when Ron shot him a look of question, Harry reddened. Thankfully Malfoy hadn't said anything, instead allowing himself to be inspected by Ronan for any fault in his disguise.

They finished up that Saturday evening earlier than usual since Ronan was called away on Auror business. Harry was now caught up in a fierce charm battle with Dean and Ron, elongating noses and foreheads, growing ears and hairy arms, before Harry said it was enough, his lips feeling very swollen and unnatural. Dean and Ron left and Harry walked up to one of the wall mirrors, gingerly touching his lips. He cursed their immature behavior, however fun it had been.

Malfoy was also by the mirror, a little further away, returning his features to normal. The dark onyx hair turned lighter and lighter until it was a platinum blond, hanging loosely over his face.

"That's not the right length," Harry said without thinking. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek before raising his wand and lengthening Draco's hair a fraction of an inch. Draco looked into the mirror and made a deep side-part in his hair, fussing with it a moment longer before nodding in a satisfactory way. "I look good," Draco said with a smirk at his own reflection.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Cocky bastard." He returned his own features to normal. His hair turned back to its usual jet-black disarray, his eyes softened into a jade-green, and the wrinkles from his face slowly faded away. He raised his wand to his glasses.

"Leave them," he heard Draco say.

"What?" Harry looked at him through the mirror.

Draco seemed to hesitate for a second before he drawled, "Merlin knows those frames suit you better than the last ones did." Draco left in a flurry of robes, leaving Harry gaping at the doorway. He felt his mouth turn up in a smile. Had that been a compliment?

* * *

Shit, Draco cursed silently as he glided out of the training room and back into the hallway. Why would he say something like that to Potter? He wasn't lying. Those glasses do brighten Harry's eyes. They made him look a little older, and…mature. Draco refrained from using the word 'hot' because describing Harry Potter with that word would be very, very worrisome. To actually compliment the man was too much for Draco to handle. Maybe he could snatch a Time-Turner from the Department of Mysteries and take the moment back? Draco shook his head, slightly embarrassed at his own nerve.

He froze suddenly, stopping mid-step in the middle of the hallway, feeling the blood drain from his face. Surely he had just imagined it? He looked down at his forearm, currently covered in his long sleeve, frightened at what he would see if he uncovered it. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast. He imagined it, Draco assured himself as he slid the fabric up towards his elbow. The sharp pain from moments ago was only his memory playing tricks on him, an echo of what he would feel back then. Because it was impossible. Impossible that the Dark Mark, having been silent for three long years after the fall of the Dark Lord, was once again very much _alive_.

oOo

* * *

_End Chapter Four_

* * *

_A/N: This is a much shorter chapter than all the other ones but the next one will be longer, I promise. Please, please leave a comment/review! I love reading them. :33_

_Thank you all for your comments on the previous chapters :D_

_Without You I'm Nothing—Placebo_


	5. Silver and Cold

_**Author's Warnings: **__language, mature content_

* * *

**Chapter Five, Silver and Cold**

* * *

On the third week of their trial-period, Harry, Ron, Dean, and Draco left Auror Headquarters and used a portkey to relocate to an outside training location. They landed on a forest floor, in a clearing surrounded by trees. The earth was soft and wet under their feet, and the air cold and bighting. It was silent except for the rustling of leaves in a light breeze.

Just then, a small envelope came out from under the strewn leaves. It floated in front of them, opening itself and forming a mouth with its folds. Robards voice resounded from the pages:

_Welcome to your new home. You are within a DMLE protected area where you will be completing the third week of your trial period, covering the topic of Stealth and Tracking._

_Your task is simple: Stay hidden. Stay safe._

_There is only one rule you must follow. You cannot stay in one place for too long. The arena is enchanted with sensors that will alert Auror's of your location. Staying in one spot will make it easier for me to find you. Don't let yourselves be caught. Once you do, you will be taken back to Headquarters and receive marks mirroring your performance for the week. _

_Your task is simple: Stay hidden. Stay safe… _

The letter disintegrated. Four small backpacks appeared in front of them.

"Why does it feel like they've just dropped us in an arena of certain death, like mice for experimentation?" Dean asked, taking his wand out and walking forward. He opened one of the bags. "Supplies. Tent. Food rations." He threw two of the bags to Harry and Ron, and hesitated only a fraction of a second before throwing one to Draco as well.

"Come on, it'll be best if we keep walking for now," Harry suggested. He placed his wand in the palm of his hand and muttered a navigation spell. It pointed north. "Let's just keep as north as possible. This way."

The day went by relatively undisturbed, except for a small argument that broke out between them, deciding which way to turn at a fork in the trees. They decided to vote on it, which didn't go over too well since Harry and Draco voted one way and Dean and Ron voted another. In the end, they chose an entirely different route, pausing only for an early evening snack on the way.

By twilight, the four young men stopped at a small clearing, tired and worn. Harry advised them to throw shield charms and protection wards over the immediate area. They spent a few minutes walking in a large circle, until Harry was satisfied that they would be alerted for any sign of danger.

Closer inspection through the contents of his bag, and Harry calculated there wouldn't be enough food rations to last until the end of the week. He was just about to voice his thoughts but he stopped, not having the heart to tell Ron to stop eating, as he was doing at the moment. Harry closed his backpack, ignoring the hunger in his stomach and threw up his tent. It was small, room for one and a half of Harry. He slipped inside easily and maneuvered himself so that his head was at the entrance to the tent. He peered out and watched as Draco did the same, carefully slipping off his expensive black cloak so it wouldn't get dirty on the ground. He folded it neatly and placed it inside the backpack. He pulled at the bottom of his sleeves, covering his hands a little bit. It was a habit of Draco's that Harry had picked up, something the blond-haired man did whenever he was wearing long sleeves. In fact, Draco was always wearing long sleeves. Harry wondered whether it was because he was trying to cover the Dark Mark. After setting up his own tent, Draco climbed inside without a word or a backward glance.

* * *

Draco was in a foul mood. Sleeping on a forest floor was one of the last things Draco wanted to do, especially in an old smelly tent that had probably housed every single Auror-in-training before them. He slipped his cloak off and carefully folded it, trying to ignore the hole Potter was burning into his back. He was just about to turn around and threaten Harry with a curse if he didn't stop staring, when a sharp pain shot through his arm. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out and masked the jerk of his hand by pulling at the sleeves. He was certain that the Dark Lord had not returned, couldn't have. He and countless others had borne witness to his death. He perished, his souls disintegrating into nothingness at the hands of Harry Bloody Potter. So why was this happening again?

It was only his imagination, he thought for the hundredth time as he closed his eyes. Weariness overpowered him and he fell asleep, dreaming of a world in a war that would never end.

oOo

* * *

The following morning found them in a panic. Harry was startled awake at the sound of their alarms going off, a high-pitched sound piercing his ears. He climbed out of his tent, wand in hand and motioned for the others to keep as quiet as possible. He silenced the alarm and pointed towards one end of the clearing, a bit away, where a cloaked figure could be seen lurking, walking around with careful steps. After a few painful minutes during which they all took out their wands and pointed them at the figure, the person left in the opposite direction. They heard the crack of disapparition.

Harry let out a breath he'd been holding. "Let's get going."

They packed, cancelled their wards, and walked swiftly away from the clearing.

"Do you think he spotted us?" Ron asked.

"No. Our wards were enough to keep him away. He didn't know we were there. Or rather, he knew we were there but couldn't find us with the wards," Harry said, hoping it was true.

The rest of their morning was spent on the edge, jumping at the slightest sounds the forest would offer to them. The day was warm, bright sunlight baring down on them through the openings of the trees. To their relief, they found a calm river by mid-afternoon. Ron and Dean immediately shed their cloaks and shirts, submerging themselves completely into the water. Harry followed soon after, washing his face and hair, feeling much better now that he wasn't covered in dirt and sweat.

Time went by pleasurably slow; they took their time swimming in the semi-shallow water and having contests to see who could stay under the longest. After one such game, Harry emerged victorious only because the other two were purposefully forcing the air out of each other's lungs. Harry glanced over to where Malfoy's blond hair glinted in the afternoon sun. The young man was stooped down, examining a plant near the roots of a large tree. Malfoy was still fully clothed, not even bothering to shed his cloak.

"Hey, Malfoy, why don't you join us? The water's cool," Harry called over to him. Draco only waved a hand over his shoulder, not bothering to answer. Curious, Harry got out of the water and walked over to inspect. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy was uprooting one of the plants, carefully tucking the leaves into the pockets of his robes after making sure to put a protection charm over them.

"This is dittany. Do you know how bloody difficult and fucking expensive these are to get a hold of?" Draco answered, clipping another root and placing it with the other leaves in his pocket.

"I didn't know you liked herbology," Harry said.

Draco glared up at him. "Herbology? Don't insult me, Potter. For your information I happen to be very adept in potion-making." He moved on to clip another handful of dittany.

"Aren't they practically the same thing?"

Draco gave him another heated look. "No, they are not," he said, and continued with a patience Harry thought would be appropriate for lecturing a first-year, "there is a very clear difference between the two subjects. One is the _mundane_ study of magical and ordinary plants while the other requires a more precise skill and mental capacity that I'm sure is far beyond you, Potter. Potion-making is an art. Nothing in comparison to the study of _herbs_." Draco placed a final collection of dittany into his pocket, happily calculating how long the batch would last him. Probably a good few months in which he could brew some essence of dittany and sell it for a hefty price. He nodded, satisfied, and looked up at Harry, whose face was twisted in amusement and something else.

It was only then that Draco realized Harry was wearing nothing save his boxers, and even those were wet and clinging to Harry like a second skin. _Fucking hell, Potter. _Draco looked away before he was tempted to continue staring.

"I never was much of a potion-brewer. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two," Harry said, reaching a hand up and wiping his hair away from his face. For once, his hair lay flat, held in place by the water that dripped from its ends. A second later and Draco realized he hadn't responded, having been too distracted by this newfound attraction Harry seemed to be emanating.

"Maybe I will," Draco heard himself say.

"Great. It's a date then," Harry said, before he could stop himself. Draco raised his eyebrows. "I meant to say, you know, you can teach me…whenever you get the chance…it's not a…" Harry reddened.

Draco smirked. "It's a date then."

"Harry! Come scrub my back, I can't reach it," Ron said, his voice muffled over the steady stream of the river.

Harry gave Draco a grin before turning and running back towards the river. The muscles of his back stretched and flexed. Harry threw himself back into the water, his heart feeling lighter than it's been in a long while.

oOo

* * *

Harry filled up a water bottle, charming it so that it would hold more than its suggested size, and placed it back in his backpack. It was early evening now, the air beginning to cool again. Harry winced as he stood up, cursing his stupidity for wanting to seem impressive in front of Malfoy after their conversation by the tree. He was ignoring the fact that he'd wanted to impress the man at all. But it remained that he had flung himself back into the water, only to spectacularly pull a muscle on his back in the process. He massaged himself gingerly.

"I'm out of food," Ron said dejectedly from his spot on the ground. His arm was shoulder-deep in his bag, searching for a ration he might have overlooked.

"Because you ate it all," Harry said, shaking his head and throwing a bag of cookies at Ron. "Don't eat it all at once." His own stomach was rumbling from lack of proper nourishment.

They decided on trying to catch some fish for dinner, and so they took out their wands, going back into the water to hunt.

oOo

* * *

Harry didn't think he could run any longer. They were stupid for setting up a fire out in the open, when they could just have easily heated their fish with their wands. In their eagerness for food, they'd forgotten to set up the proper wards as they usually did before settling down. Now they were paying dearly for their mistake. Harry's legs were tensing up, his back burning at the strain. He ignored the pain as best he could, jumping several feet over a fallen log, and thanking Merlin that his tired legs didn't give out. He could hear the others running beside him, as well as the Aurors that were slowly but surely gaining up on them from behind.

Harry raised his wand, aiming for the large opening between the trees ahead of them. He recalled the incantation in his mind, not wanting to risk the Aurors hearing which wards he was putting up, and held the magical barrier open in order for the four of them to get through. Noticing what Harry was doing, his cohort did the same, adding their own protective wards to the mix.

"No! GET THEM."

A stray binding spell hit the spot towards the left of Harry, spraying dirt and leaves in all directions. He jumped over another log; the air in his lungs were burning by now. Only a few more yards left. He felt the hot ray of another spell stinging his cheek as it missed him narrowly by a few centimeters, splitting open the branches of a tree beside him. Another step and Harry let go of the wards that he was holding open. The four young men fell through, collapsing on to the ground. Harry watched with relief as the Aurors yelled in frustration, unable to get through their wards. Harry let his head fall back on the ground, breathing hard and staring up at the darkening sky, currently spinning through his waves of exhaustion. For minutes, there was no sound but their heavy breathing.

"That…was close."

The Aurors disapparated eventually, and they were left alone.

oOo

* * *

By Thursday things were taking a turn for the worst. The four young wizards were exhausted, and Harry was certain that another ambush like the one the previous day would leave them in a very vulnerable position. But the Aurors were not relenting. Barely had the sun risen when the alarm went off around them, signaling intruders.

"We're dead…" Dean breathed.

Just outside of their wards were the Aurors, twice as many as the previous day. They surrounded them in a wide circle, their wands raised, slowly dismantling their wards.

"No time to pack," Draco said, shrugging on his cloak and taking out his wand. "Make a formation up here. There is a wider gap here between these two Aurors. We can break through them easily."

They obeyed him immediately, their wands clutched in their hands.

"We're at an advantage right now. They won't know our location. We can swiftly take out half the group in the first second. Weasley, Thomas fix yourself in front of Robards and Ronan. Be prepared to stun and run. Potter and I will be your cover. Potter, how's your shield?"

"Good enough to cover our backs for a moment."

"We won't wait until they've dismantled the wards. We'll put them down ourselves," said Draco. The others nodded in understanding. "On three, then. One…"

"Two…" said Harry.

"Three!"

The wards fell and they sent stunning spells towards the group. Four Aurors fell to the floor. Another two flew backwards towards the trees, victims of Ron's blasting curse. Their victory was short lived, the Aurors were quick to regroup and retaliated with just as much force. They started to run once again, dodging behind trees in order to avoid flying curses. Dean tripped over the roots of a tree and was immediately secured. An Auror grabbed him by the arm and disapparated. Dean was gone.

They kept running and Harry figured he could set up the wards again in front of him, as he had done the previous night, but the Aurors were ready for that. A strangled cry made Harry stop and turn around. Ron was being dragged across the forest floor, past the wards, an invisible force pulling him into the midst of the Aurors.

"No, no, no, Ron!" Harry threw himself forward as a last minute effort to try and grab onto Ron's outstretched hand. But then Ron's body passed the wards and he vanished along with Dean. There were several pops of disapparition. "Fuck." Harry hit the ground with his fist, more out of exhaustion than from frustration. After a moment he joined Draco, setting up the wards that Ron and Dean usually erected.

oOo

* * *

"Are you cold?"

Harry lifted his head from his arms where he had been dozing off against the base of a tree. He'd considered letting himself be caught, feeling envious as he pictured Ron and Dean enjoying the warmth of the Auror Common room, as opposed to the cold night air he and Draco were currently facing.

"Are you cold?" Draco repeated.

"A little. Warming charms only really work if you're awake," Harry responded, casting a silent warming charm on his feet. He fixed himself in a more comfortable position. They'd lost their supplies that morning during the ambush and so were now forced to sleep out in the open.

A heavy cloak fell on his lap. He looked up, but Draco had turned away from him.

"I didn't know you cared," Harry said, grinning.

"Don't flatter yourself," Draco said, though Harry could tell he was holding back a smile.

Harry took the cloak and wrapped it around himself. There was a pleasant warmth lingering from Draco's body heat, and Harry shivered as it transferred over to his chilled limbs. He caught a scent of cigarettes, amber, and something else that he couldn't quite make out. He held back an impulse to sniff the collar.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"You're welcome."

"…Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Positive. If I get cold I'll have it back."

"We can just share it."

"Cuddle?" Draco asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Snuggle."

Draco snorted. "Keep it, for Merlin's sake. Don't make it awkward," he said.

Harry wrapped the cloak tighter around him. Their gazes met. Draco's silver eyes lingered for a second before they turned away from him again.

"When did you start smoking?" Harry asked, wanting to grab his attention again.

"About two years ago."

"How? I thought you hated everything to do with Muggles."

"I did at one point," Draco said.

"And now?"

"People change, I suppose."

"You've changed." Harry meant it to come out as a question. The end result was that it came out sounding more like an accusation.

"Have I?" Their eyes met once more, and Draco didn't look away.

It occurred to Harry then that this was the first conversation he was having with Draco Malfoy. It made him feel oddly content. As though they hadn't always been sworn enemies; the past became a distant memory for him, and Harry felt it easy to forget the harsh relationship they had once been in.

"Yeah. Yeah you have."

Draco nodded thoughtfully and they both fell into an unfamiliar yet peaceful silence.

oOo

* * *

Draco couldn't ignore it any longer. His Dark Mark was burning constantly now. Maybe not as it once had when the Dark Lord would call his followers, but it was there nonetheless. And it made Draco afraid, though he would never admit to it, because he didn't know how to interpret it. He couldn't just ignore it anymore. He left the comfort of the Auror common room, which he and Harry had arrived at a few hours prior, and made his way down to the exit area of the Ministry.

He apparated just outside his London apartment. The night was cold, another summer storm was brewing in the distance. He lifted his hand to the door handle of his apartment and paused. He could hear voices inside. Blaise. He was arguing with someone. Draco moved his ear closer to the door.

"What the hell do you mean your father contacted you? How is that even possible?" Blaise was saying.

"It's possible. They're breaking out again. We'll need to act fast. Gather everyone so we can find a safe house. Maybe one of the Carrow manors."

Draco paled. Breaking out? That wasn't possible; the security in Azkaban has increased tenfold after the admission of the new Minister.

"When will it happen? Did he tell you that?"

"Only that it will be by the year's closing."

"Alright. We'll meet up soon. Now leave. I need to think."

Draco quickly cast a disillusionment charm on himself and moved aside. Theodore Nott walked past him. Draco waited a minute before he cancelled the charm and went inside.

"Drake. About fucking time."

"Your mark…?"

"It's burning, too. Everyone's is."

Draco frowned.

"How?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?"

Draco sighed and sat down on the couch. Not for the first time he wished he had someone he could confide in. Someone like Severus. Severus had always known the answers to complicated questions. If only he were here. Draco stood up suddenly. He _was_ here. Maybe not in person, but he _could _talk to Severus. He was at Hogwarts, in the Headmistress' office as a portrait. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? He made his way to the front door but was stopped by Blaise gripping his arm.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I have to get back to Headquarters," Draco said, trying to pull away.

"Stay for a minute, will you?"

Draco didn't want to stay. He wanted to get back to the common room to think. _Maybe Harry will still be awake. _Harry_? What the hell am I saying? _ Draco stopped his internal processes when Blaise closed the distance between them, never letting go of his arm. Their lips met for a second before Draco pulled away, not really wanting any physical contact while Potter was still in his head. But Blaise pushed his body towards the door so his back was leaning against it, trapping Draco momentarily. Blaise was over his mouth once more and Draco closed his eyes, wondering how it would feel if Potter was the one kissing him. He gasped and pushed Blaise away roughly, surprised that he would even imagine such a thing.

"I'm leaving," he said, and opened the door. He strode away, wiping his mouth as he went.

oOo

* * *

_End Chapter Five_

* * *

_A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to put up. I've had a crazy work schedule these past weeks. :( Anyway, please don't forget to leave a comment! Any constructive criticism is welcome. How do you think Draco and Harry's relationship is progressing so far? Too fast? Too slow? Are there any other pairings you would like to see? Let me know! :33_

_Just a warning for the future: I might have to put in a few moments in the point-of-view of other characters so we can all understand what's going on plot-wise._

_Thank you again for your comments on previous chapters, keep 'em coming! :D_

_Silver and Cold—A.F.I._


	6. Ask For Answers

_**Author's Warnings: **language, mild violence_

_For reference: _

_A.T.P.: 'Aurors-in-Trial-Period'_

_A.T.: 'Auror's-in-Training'_

* * *

**Chapter Six, Ask For Answers**

* * *

"_My Lord?" Lucius Malfoy inquired, his voice coming out strong and smooth. In reality though, he was beginning to panic, his chest filling with dread and he hoped that he hadn't heard correctly._

"_Must I always repeat myself to you, Lucius?" the Dark Lord's voice came out as a natural hiss. He sat upon his throne, at the front of a long, elegant cherry wood dining table. His thin, white fingers curled around Nagini, caressing the creature as it nestled at its Master's feet. "Your good for nothing son will pay for his mistakes. He has failed me not once, Lucius, not twice, but three times. And still the old fool Dumbledore remains alive. I'm beginning to think that his heart is not in it at all. If he can't accomplish his task in the time I required of it, then he is of no use to me. Perhaps Nagini will find him more appealing." As if in ascent, Nagini hissed threateningly._

_Lucius' stomach dropped to the floor. _No, not my son. _"My Lord, please understand," he said, falling to his knees. "He is a foolish child. Forgive me. I will do it myself. I assure you that I shall not fail in this task."_

"_Give me one reason, Lucius," the Dark Lord said, ignoring the words of the servant at his feet, "to keep your son alive."_

"_I'll do anything," Lucius said at once, bowing his head, platinum hair falling over his face. "Anything."_

oOo

* * *

"Malfoy, at the ready."

The first shot came quick, at lightning speed, aimed right for Draco's head. He swayed as he caught the spell with his shield. A fraction of a second later and Draco would have been sprawled across the ground. Another stunning spell followed the first which left no room for him to regain his balance. But Draco persisted with just as much force.

They'd begun the combat and dueling portion of their trial period two days prior. Their Auror mentors this week were Proudfoot and Savage, a deathly pair of brothers who were genius in dueling and fighting tactics.

The training room was once again transformed into a large arena; it was reconstructed to mimic a rough terrain, almost mountainous with boulders littered throughout. Wooden test dummies were strewn in pieces on the ground, always putting themselves back together in an instant after they'd been blown apart from their spells.

"Come now, Malfoy, don't be a fucking pussy! Throw me a shot, I dare you!" Savage drawled with a smirk. Draco, his platinum hair slick with sweat, scowled deeply before sending a binding curse in the older man's direction.

Only a few yards away, Harry was at arms with Proudfoot, the calmest of the brothers, and by the looks of it, the pair was at equal match. Harry's face was set, his bright green eyes burning with an intensity Draco would admire if he wasn't occupied with Savage at the moment.

"Damn you," Harry laughed as his wand flew out of his hand and into Proudfoot's outstretched one. Harry placed his hands on his knees to catch his breath. This was by far his most favorite part of the trial period. Combat and dueling came naturally to him. It's what his body was use to after having lived through the final years of Voldemort's rise to power. He straightened as Proudfoot came over and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're doing great, Potter," Proudfoot said to him, handing back his wand.

Harry grinned in reply. He had taken a great liking to Proudfoot. If Harry was being honest with himself, the man reminded him a lot of Sirius, and it wasn't because they had similar pet names. Proudfoot had the same shaggy dark brown hair and a smile readily available for whenever Harry spoke to him.

"Care for another round?" Harry asked hopefully. He was tired already, but not exhausted enough. He found it much easier to sleep that way, when his body was fatigued and when his mind had no room to think except for the variety of new spells and curses that they had to memorize.

Proudfoot grinned. "Not satisfied yet, are you? Alright. I won't go easy on you this time."

"I never asked you to," Harry replied, lifting his wand.

* * *

"See you back in the common room, Harry," Ron gave him an exhausted wave.

"Alright, be there soon."

Harry was standing at the edge of the arena, nursing a deep wound on his thigh. Draco was still caught in a fierce battle with Savage. It was impressive, really, the way Draco's piercing gaze never left his opponent; it was always watching for the next move and he would ready his own spells just as quickly. His cloak rose up around him, revealing an elegant body underneath, slim and toned, wired from the day's training.

_Attractive._

Harry's eyebrows rose, surprised at his own admission. No, not "attractive," Harry mentally corrected himself. Just…admirable. It's not as though he felt attracted to Malfoy or anything. Not one bit. He was a Death Eater for Merlin's sake. That fact alone should rule out any sort of attractiveness out of anybody. It was probably all the training he was putting himself through. It weakened the state of his mind. Also, the fact that he hadn't had a good source of _release_ in a good few months might have something to do with it as well. Malfoy would probably poison him with all his dark-magic-potion-making talent if he caught wind of what Harry was thinking.

"You should have Katherine take a look at that, Potter," Proudfoot said.

Dismissing himself from his mentor, Harry headed in the direction of the infirmary.

* * *

"Do you happen to have any more Dreamless Sleep, Katherine?" Harry asked as Katherine tended to his wound.

"Again, Harry? You know Dreamless can get highly addictive," she started.

"I know that. It's only for emergencies. I get really bad headaches at night sometimes," he half-lied.

"Well if you must. It'll be in the lab where you found it last time."

Draco entered the infirmary in that moment, still a little flushed from training.

"Oh, Draco, honey, are you going to be using the lab again?"

"Yes, if that's alright with you, Miss Katherine."

"Of course it is. Shouldn't you be resting, though? Can't tell you enough how many A.T.'s come in just from sheer exhaustion nearly every night."

"I've just a few things to attend to. I'm fine, really." Draco gave her a brief smile before disappearing behind the door to the lab at the far end of the infirmary. Harry found it alarming that the smile Draco had given, however brief it'd been, was nothing but charming and he quickly squashed the other, rather envious feeling at the fact that the smile had been directed to the (young) woman beside him and not at Harry. Inner turmoil going unnoticed, Katherine now seemed very flustered as she was now pressing her hand painfully into Harry's wound.

"Miss Katherine?" Harry quietly inquired.

"Oh, yes, dear?" she said, applying salve on to his thigh.

"What's he up to in there?"

"Draco? He's taken to restocking all the healing salves and potions for the infirmary. Usually it's Mr. Williamson who brews them, but it seems he'll be away at the moment on Auror business and he asked Draco to take over. He's great at potion brewing. I'm certain he'll surpass even Mr. Williamson in his abilities in a few years. He's brewing essence of dittany at the moment," Katherine answered, slightly breathless after her extended explanation.

"You're not afraid he'll turn it into poison instead?" he joked. It must've passed straight over Katherine's head because she now looked affronted.

"Poison?" Katherine asked. "Why would Draco…he would never—and you shouldn't think that way of your own partner, Mr. Potter." She waved her wand and quickly healed the light scar that had formed on his thigh. The movement stung his skin. "Now that you're all done here, I suggest you get back to your rooms." She left and disappeared behind her office door.

Hoping Katherine wasn't too angry at him, Harry walked instead towards the door to the lab and opened it, instantly catching the heavy scent of dittany, a floral and slightly sweet, acidic smell that invaded his nostrils. Draco was standing over by a table, head bent over a golden cauldron. His sleeves were rolled up and he was concentrated on pouring a few drops from a vial into the brew. He glanced up only a fraction of a second but made no other ascent to recognize Harry's presence. After a few more drops, Draco placed the vial on the table and unfolded the sleeves of his shirt, neatly pulling them back down to his wrists.

Harry suddenly felt as though he had intruded into Draco's space and he reached up to ruffle the hair at the back of his head. To fill the awkward silence Harry walked around the room, slowly inspecting different vials and bottles, though he knew exactly where to find the Dreamless Sleep he was looking for. After having looked through every shelf in the room, he inevitably ended up in front of Draco again, who had gone back to consulting his cauldron.

"Essence of dittany?" Harry asked to break the silence.

"Quite the opposite, actually. It's poison. Planning on killing the entire staff once I'm done with it," Draco said without looking up.

Harry bit his lip. "You heard that, did you?"

"Not that hard when the lab and office are enchanted to listen in on the main room. Makes it easier for Miss Katherine to know when someone needs attention."

"You know, I didn't mean—"

"What you mean, what you think, it means very little to me, Potter. Save your breath."

It really didn't mean anything to Draco. For all he cared, Potter and his unruly head of hair could believe all he wanted. Whether that meant Potter still believed him a Death Eater, it was all the better for when he proved him wrong. Not that he needed Potter's approval or anything. His was the last he needed. After all, they were sworn enemies weren't they? Spending a few nights alone in a dark forest wasn't going to change anything between them. And fuck, why was Potter still standing there?

Harry tried to say something, to defend himself, to correct this misunderstanding, but the words wouldn't come. What was the point anyway? Why this sudden need to explain himself? It's not like they were friends. A few nights alone in a dark forest doesn't constitute friendship.

And so he did as any non-friend would do, and left without saying a word.

oOo

* * *

By mid-week they had graduated from using test dummies and the twins for their training. Other Auror's were coming in for a practice duel with the four of them and even some of the Aurors-in-Training second years stopped by for a collaborative defense lesson.

"Harry, you've got your footing all wrong," Oliver Wood was explaining to him on Thursday evening. They'd been practicing their shields for the majority of the day, strengthening and enlarging their shield's reach. "Here, if you stand this way your shield won't withstand anything. But like this," and Oliver maneuvered Harry's legs to a slightly wider stance, "you can add more structure to it, make it more indestructible. Try it again Ron."

Ron aimed his Expulso curse at Harry for the fifth time. Harry, his back throbbing from having been blasted off his feet and into the wall so many times, caught the curse with his shield. The impact shot pain up through his arms and across his shoulders; his hands shook but his shield held for a few seconds longer before finally dissipating. He let out a shuddering breath, the relief he'd felt for having succeeded disappeared, overpowered by the wave of exhaustion that washed over him. He'd stretched himself thin, knowing he was going way past the limits of his abilities that day. But he'd had a bad night the day before, so he was hoping to wear out his body.

"Great! Great job, Harry," Oliver beamed at him. "With time and practice your shield will get stronger and will be able to withstand even one of Savage's blasting curses, I promise. You have a go now, Ronald."

They switched positions, Harry wringing out his arms to try and rid himself of the pain and the weariness in his limbs. He raised his wand and called the curse to the forefront of his mind , but only a spark ignited at the tip of his wand. Embarrassed, Harry tried again and nothing happened.

"Well, go on," Ron said.

"Concentrate, Harry," Oliver told him.

Harry closed his eyes, aware that there were more than two pairs of eyes on him and called his magic forward, from somewhere inside where it felt almost tangible. His arm tingled and he called the curse once more in his mind. The spell shot out, and Ron, who rose his shield at the last second, was thrown back by the sheer force. He landed hard on the ground.

* * *

Draco held back a satisfied smirk as he watched Weasley sprawled on the ground. For a second, Draco had thought Potter wouldn't be able to do it. If the incident moments ago was anything to go by, Potter still had some uncontrolled magic welled up inside of him. How much uncontrolled magic, he didn't know. As everyone's attention seemed to be on Weasley, who was groaning and cursing like a weakling, only Draco noticed the way Potter swayed dangerously. Thinking he was about to topple over, Draco reached out instinctively, but Potter caught himself. He saw Draco and his outstretched hand and he frowned in confusion. Draco pulled his hand back immediately and cleared his throat, thanking Merlin that Wood chose that moment to dismiss them all for the day. He exited the arena, hoping that his cloak was billowing majestically behind him.

* * *

Later that night Draco was alone in the Auror common room. The others had thankfully gone up to bed, leaving Draco to fill the room in smoke as he went through a pack of his Camel's. His eyes were almost unblinking and he lay comfortably in the armchair that faced the high window. The moon had risen high by now; it must be past midnight. An occasional owl would pass, but none stopped at his window with a letter Draco thought he should've received by now.

Nearly a week had passed since he'd sent a letter to McGonagall requesting an audience with the Hogwarts portraits. He'd figured he should tell the truth about wanting to speak with Severus, as opposed to lying and having to lie whenever he wanted to speak with his godfather. Perhaps she thought Draco had ulterior motives? He sighed. Most likely she didn't want an ex-Death Eater roaming around the precious Hogwarts grounds. He huffed, sending a puff of smoke in the shape of a snitch up into the air, where it dissipated. He stayed in the common room for another hour, before throwing his empty carton into the fireplace and heading up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Draco paused midway to his bed. A glow had caught his attention, emanating softly around the curtains that shielded Potter's bed from the others. Curious, Draco moved closer, intending to reveal Potter and some magical night lights floating around. His mother once told him that she use to conjure them for Draco when he was little because he'd been afraid of the dark. Draco had denied the fact vehemently.

He reached out a hand and drew the curtain away. He took in a sharp breath. There were no night lights. Only Potter, lying in bed with his face frowning deeply in distress. One of his hands was by his left ear, clutching the fabric of his pillow while the other hand rested in a tight fist on his stomach. His blanket had been pooled at his feet. His hair was wet with perspiration, lying in disarray and sticking to his face. What caused Draco to breathe in sharply wasn't this, or the fact that Potter slept shirtless, with his pants lying dangerously below his waist line, although under any other circumstances Draco would've stopped to admire the toned body. What alarmed him was the magic that was visibly whirling around Potter's form, erratic and powerful. He'd never seen anything like it; Potter's magic was an electric red, fading in color and returning to its original vibrancy a second later. The hand that wasn't holding the curtain open, left Draco's side and slowly extended to Potter, hovering an inch away from one of the magical laces. A sudden urge to touch the magic overcame him and he reached out further. He was being reckless, he knew. Potter's magic could suddenly turn violent, protective over its owner, and kill Draco in an instant. Or even worse, Potter would wake up and find Draco with his hand once again reaching out to him. He'd have a great time trying to explain that one.

His finger wavered over one of the chains, which withdrew a little before coming closer and then withdrawing again. It was like a frightened entity, a curious one, testing the waters before deeming Draco's hand unthreatening. Then it made contact with the very tip of his middle finger, and a shock went through Draco's limbs. It was painful and exhilarating at the same time, and for a second he thought he was going to die, overcome as he was with feeling Potter's magic surging through him. He gasped and pulled his hand away. The tendril of magic waved in air, innocent and small, before returning back to join the rest of Potter's magical essence. Draco was having a little trouble breathing, his limbs shook slightly from the encounter. Potter had turned his head towards him, his brow furrowed and his mouth opening to form incoherent words. Draco stilled, frightened that he would awaken. He hoped dearly that Potter hadn't felt anything with the touch. Perhaps he was still stuck in his dreams, or nightmares. Maybe Draco should wake him up? But then Potter's magic seemed to calm, quietly dropping back into the man's body, leaving his skin glowing before the darkness of the room reached him. He dismissed the thought of waking him then, and though he wanted nothing more than to stay there and watch Potter as he slept (yes, maybe he was going insane) he let the curtain fall, obscuring Potter and his sleeping form.

Before he could turn away he spotted a vial on the bedside table. He picked it up. It had no label but after a careful sniff Draco recognized it as Dreamless Sleep. Seemed as though Potter had run out of it before tonight. Frowning and thinking that he'd learned more from Potter in one night than he had all month, he set the vial down and finally made his way to his own bed. He took off his clothes and slipped into his sweatpants. There was no use trying to figure out the reasoning behind Potter's uncontrolled magic. It could be anything really. He climbed into bed. A trigger of some sort that had awakened it. He summoned a small bottle of healing salve. Maybe Potter's dreams have something to do with it. Like a connection of some sort. Draco spread a liberal amount of salve on his forearm, over his Dark Mark, absentmindedly massaging it into his skin. He placed the salve on the bedside table and drew the covers over him. It's not like Draco would be able to do anything to help. Potter was probably already being helped with his little problem. His little Gryffindor friends, Granger maybe, would be able to figure it out. She'd always been an insufferable know it all. He yawned.

Besides, there were more important things to consider. Like his visit to Hogwarts and what exactly he was going to tell Severus. Whether Severus would take it seriously that their fathers were planning on breaking out of Azkaban. Would Severus urge him to reveal it to one of the Aurors? But then they would assume Draco was in on it. He closed his eyes. Maybe he'll just think of it when the time came. Tomorrow he'll wake up early and head to the labs. The infirmary was out of Dreamless Sleep.

Draco's breathing evened out eventually, and he slept, his limbs still tingling in the aftershock of Harry's magic.

oOo

* * *

Harry Potter woke the next morning with a massive headache. His head throbbed, and his brain felt like it had taken a beating through the night. He touched his head tentatively and realized it wasn't the only thing that was bothering him. He felt sensitive. Everywhere. His magic was on the surface again, nearly invisible, but it had seeped through his skin, settling on the surface of his limbs. It felt strange today. There was a small part in his magic that felt almost foreign to him. Unknown.

Not having the strength to explore this new sensation, he sat up with difficulty and took in a few calming breaths. He reached out to move the curtains away from his bed and was at once alarmed that he'd forgotten to place the wards he usually set up before bed. Thankfully the room was empty. Maybe no one had noticed. Only two more days and Harry would finally get to go back home. Maybe he'll have a talk with Hermione about his magic. The incident the previous night had troubled him. She would know what was wrong.

With that reassurance, Harry got out of bed to get ready.

oOo

* * *

Saturday evening signaled the end of their month-long trial period. The four of them stood before their Auror mentors, debriefing their scores and talking about the next step in the program. It was rather anti-climactic, Harry thought as he looked down at the sheet of paper which held his scores for the month as well as a schedule of classes that would begin the following week:

_Monday: Poisons and Antidotes, Williamson_

_Tuesday: Concealment and Disguise, Ronan_

_Wednesday: Stealth and Tracking (indoors), Robards_

_Thursday: Stealth and Tracking (field training), Proudfoot_

_Friday: Combat and Dueling (offense), Savage_

_Saturday: Combat and Dueling (defense), Wood_

_Sunday: Rest Day_

"So take advantage of your week off, A.T.'s. You won't be getting much of a break for the next three years," Robards told them with a sadistic smile.

"Fuck me," Ron breathed beside him.

"I'd rather not, Ron. It'd be a little awkward," Harry said as the Auror mentors left the room.

"You coming over on Tuesday, right?" Ron asked. "We're having Hermione's birthday dinner then."

Harry could see the anxiety already creeping over Ron's form. It was the day he was planning on asking Hermione to marry him. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. Have you asked her parents already?"

"Yeah, I spoke to them about two weeks ago. They're happy we're finally going to get married."

"That's great, Ron."

* * *

Draco couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in amusement. So the blood-traitor and the Granger girl were getting married? What a perfectly sickening match. He started for the door at the same time Potter and Weasley did. He tried to inconspicuously pick up his pace, but then so did Potter. Draco slowed down and the idiot slowed down too. The end result was that they reached the door at the exact same time and, neither wanting to give way to the other, awkwardly bumped shoulders before they could pass through.

* * *

Harry visibly winced. The contact had made his magic bristle, wanting to reach out and wrap around Malfoy's form. He held back, at once shocked and confused at the feeling. He backed away and Malfoy's pale gaze met his in equal astonishment before he turned away and walked out of the door.

"Git needs to watch where he's going," Ron scowled.

Harry couldn't respond, busy as he was trying to regain control of his magic.

* * *

This was getting out of control. For what seemed liked the millionth time as of late, Draco veered his mind away from the dangerous topic of wanting to get close to Harry _Fucking_ Potter. And the magic that he'd felt just now emanating from the other man? It was just Draco's mind playing tricks on him. Nothing more.

Nothing more…

* * *

oOo

* * *

_End Chapter Six_

_Thank you all for your comments! Special thanks to malpensante for your comment about Harry and Draco's relationship. I think I slowed it down a bit, right? Let me know again how you think their relationship is going; I really do take your comments seriously. :33_

_Any questions about anything so far? Any confusion? Don't forget to write them down even if it's something small._

_See you all in Chapter Seven!_

_Ask for Answers-Placebo_


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